He's Not My Dog
by whenimaunicorn
Summary: Relationship study on Naomi and Amos. I ended up doing the entire first season from her perspective, with lots of direct quotes from the episodes, then imagining a lot of bridge scenes and backstory. Their relationship on the show is so fascinating, and there's so much tension still unresolved! (nonromantic, staying very close to canon)
1. Chapter 1

Naomi felt the blood hit her face before her ears registered the sound of the gunshot, before her brain could interpret the meaning of Sematimba's jerking collapse to the deck of the _Roci_.

He was dead. Amos had killed him.

Her eyes moved numbly up to her old friend's face. As calm as if they were just sitting down to breakfast. "You say we wait, so we wait, boss."

She barely heard him. She could barely move. A good man lay on the ground in front of her, a man who had just helped them all escape. Emotions were high, they were all feeling desperate, but he wasn't going to shoot that gun he had been pointing at her. He had just been helping her survive a few minutes ago.

"I'm going to go put this below."

At first, Naomi didn't even realize what Amos was talking about. "This." The man. Sematimba. Who was dead. Who Amos shot. Who Amos shot because he was threatening _her_. Who Amos had just been agreeing with, but then he chose (using the only means he ever chose) to back Naomi's play. It was a cruel twist on who they used to be to each other. He didn't wait for her choose whether he pulled the trigger this time, but then he talked like he was just following her orders.

She couldn't get past the next thought: did that mean _she_ was responsible?

 **Episode One: Dulcinea**

"Naomi. How's the Knight looking?"

"She is one leaky lifeboat, but she should make it 50,000 clicks through vacuum."

"All right. Then you're on board."

Naomi's anger flared at the presumptive XO's words. It was bad enough the _Cant_ was taking a detour and losing this haul's bonus to check out an obvious pirate trap. Now she had to stick her own personal neck out? But it was a direct order. She felt like she was being punished for being so competent.

She banged her way down to the machine shop for supplies, already prioritizing a list of things that needed doing to get the ship's neglected shuttle ready to fly. It was hard to keep her thoughts organized, when all she wanted to do was scream warnings at anyone who would listen. There was no way this mysterious ship with its generic distress beacon was as innocent as it appeared. She knew what desperate people were capable of, and pirates working this far away from the Belt were as desperate as they came. This was a terrible, terrible idea. One she hoped wasn't going to cost them all their lives, just to save the company a lawsuit. If she ever found out who logged that call…

"What's the problem, boss?" Amos asked when Naomi busted into the shop. One look at her glowering face and he put down what he was working on, gave her his full attention. Something in her chest loosened.

"Some do-gooder logged that distress call. Cap says now we're obligated to respond; they're plotting the burn right now."

The burly mechanic crossed his arms, eyes narrowing.

"He put that idiot Holden in charge of the 'rescue' mission. They're taking a team down on the _Knight_ when we get there."

"What a shit show. Is the _Knight_ even ready to fly?" Amos growled.

"Barely. We've got a lot of prep to do." She paused, then let the hammer fall. "Holden put us on the shuttle crew."

Of course she was bringing Amos with her. He wouldn't have let her go without him, not somewhere even close to risky. But she gave him the order rather than letting him volunteer, so he could be the one to say "motherfucker" and "screw that Holden guy" and all of the other cursing complaints she wished she could dwell on. Which freed her mind up to prepare for the mission as efficiently as possible.

"This is Holden," came the hated voice over the shipwide comm. "We've logged a distress call…" Amos locked eyes with Naomi in the solidarity of anger as they listened to the announcement. "…we're obliged to change our course and respond, this will be a high g maneuver." Amos started cursing under his breath as the two of them pulled the emergency crash couches down from the wall of the shop and started to strap in. "…prepare for flip'n'burn."

Naomi didn't see Amos express many emotions, but he could always be counted on to rage for her. His running string of obscenities let her mind calm and sharpen. Finally she could see in her mind exactly what the Knight needed. As the g forces rose, Amos fell silent. The effort it took to move one's tongue and mouth stymied casual conversation, and the silence left Naomi alone with her thoughts.

She didn't feel alone, though. Amos' presence always seemed to soothe her. She used the down time to ponder why that was. He had been her assistant on the _Cant_ for years now, her right-hand man. Shipping with someone that long could create a deep intimacy, even if the relationship was entirely professional. Naomi didn't like to let people get too close to her, didn't want anyone digging into her past. Amos wasn't like that; he seemed entirely content to stay in the here-and-now. Standing at her side, ceding to her better judgment. She had kept him out of trouble more than once in their time together; he had a frightening propensity for violence if she didn't keep him in check.

When Naomi thought too hard about it, it was a little weird the way she just told Amos what to do, and he just did it. She tried to explain it away as just their professional relationship, but it went deeper than that. Even outside of the work they did together all day, he followed any directive or suggestion she put out there. It wasn't like she was his mother, and it wasn't the servile obedience of someone hoping to get into her pants. Amos never seemed to be trying to impress her, or really get anything out of her, other than maybe the calm that comes from knowing someone else is in charge. Someone competent, trustworthy, someone who was usually right. It was intoxicating to see herself though his eyes in that way.

She was aware some of the other crew thought they were sleeping together. Sometimes she wondered if she should do something about the way he was always in her orbit, but most of the time she didn't give a fuck what people might be saying. Amos made her life better. She seemed to make Amos' life better. He seemed to crave a controlling hand; she liked the emotional safety of being in control. It was the most intimacy either one of them could tolerate. That was enough.

And when the fear of what they might be flying into crept up her throat, you better believe she was glad she was going to have the big man at her back.

"Can't figure out why Cap would put you in charge of this little excursion." Naomi couldn't help but lash out at the man whose order had landed her here. While she had said the _Knight_ was ready to fly, she was really only confident of the barest minimum of life support and navigational functions. In the last hours before launch she was still jerry-rigging comms and swapping out ancient pieces of the environmental controls for slighty-less-ancient ones. Who knew what Holden was doing over there.

"He still thinks he's grooming me for bigger things," he replied conversationally as he fiddled with a control panel.

"Then he's wasting his time." She pulled the venom at the last second, but she meant every word. Holden was impulsive and unreliable, and she would not have chosen him for command.

"That's what I keep tellin' him." Holden didn't seem to realize she was insulting him; he responded like she was sympathizing with his lack of career ambition.

Well, if it was sharing time, Naomi might as well vent some of her true feelings as well. "If your girlfriend logged that distress call, she's going to be living it down for a long time."

He gave a pained look, which satisfied Naomi for the moment. She turned back to her work.

"I did it."

That was a surprise. After he had been the one to order the logs purged? She turned to look at him, disappointment and disgust writ large on her face.

Holden didn't shy away from her gaze, letting her see the torment his conscience was causing. "I just couldn't shake it."

Naomi felt a twinge of compassion, maybe guilt, but she held firm to her rage. "I'd keep that to myself if I were you," was the nicest thing she could make herself say. She wasn't going to retaliate, but she knew plenty of people on the _Cant_ who wouldn't show such restraint. Their bonuses were gone for sure, and more importantly their lives were about to be at risk. Anger felt a hell of a lot better than fear, and anger loved a target.

The arrival of the rest of the crew broke her chance to say anything further. As they grumbled their way to their posts, the would-be could-be XO shot Naomi a look like a kicked dog. It said _you're not going to tell anyone, are you?_ Naomi made sure to keep her face hard as she packed up her tools, not giving him an answer. Let the man sweat a little more. He deserved to feel bad about what he'd done.

"So just for the record, guys," that annoying medic Shed piped up, "I don't want to be here right now."

"Me neither," she heard Amos reply under his breath, "but here we are. One big, happy, unit."

The big man's tone reminded Naomi exactly why she was going to keep Holden's secret. She told herself she wasn't afraid of the anger under that usually calm voice, that no matter what happened she would be able to keep Amos in hand. But she decided in that moment there was some information she was not going to be sharing with her friend until they were safely docked at Ceres station. When Holden would have somewhere to run.

The _Scopuli_ was dead. Big hole in the side, fully vented, no chance of any survivors waiting to be rescued. No signs of hidden pirates. Naomi started to let go of the worry that had been building in her chest since the first ping of the distress signal. Show's over, nothing to see here.

"Take us in," Holden commanded. Everyone stiffened, considered mutinous thoughts. Why was that even necessary? Their acting XO finished up his orders, then heaved a sigh. His conscience must be so very fucking heavy. "Alright, I'll go and poke around."

Naomi looked up at Amos pleadingly, emotions momentarily clouding her better judgment. _If you want to cause a problem now, I'm with you,_ her eyes said. _Please, can't we just be really immature about this?_

Amos shook his head in response, and her stomach sank at his next words. "I'll go with him."

She was so angry to be standing here, ushering Holden and Amos out of the _Knight_ 's airlock. Not only furious, but powerless, which only made her more enraged. This risk was not necessary; and now they were going right into the belly of the beast, in their flimsy EVA suits and one old rifle between them. It was only fitting that Holden would be going, to reap what he had sown, but Amos was standing there too, the only person she really cared about on this rustbucket. He looked up at her as the doors closed, wearing that calm and receptive face that made him look about five years old. Awaiting instructions. _Don't get yourself hurt, and don't hurt the fucking XO_ , she tried to beam at him before the airlock slammed shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Episode Two: The Big Empty**

"We're going after them." Holden announced.

Was he insane? What was their shuttle going to do to a gunship? Naomi whipped her head over to the control panel. "Don't do it, Alex."

"They just dusted fifty of our friends," Holden said through gritted teeth, turning his raging grief toward Naomi.

"Well let's not make it fifty-five." She was upset too, but their own survival clearly came first.

"Alex, I am telling you to go after that ship," Holden ordered.

"What if they don't like being followed?" Amos challenged, clearly seeing Naomi's line of reasoning.

"They slip off that screen, they're gone forever. They'll get away with this!" No one moved. "What is the wrong with you, I gave an order!" Holden roared at Alex.

"Do you think rank matters now?" Amos asked incredulously.

Holden ignored him. "Get up," he said to the weary pilot, "I'll do it myself." When Alex refused to move, the raging man physically dragged him from the seat. "Get up!"

Naomi was already moving for the control panel, initiating shut-down of the engine. She was used to circumventing men who weren't in a state to listen to reason. "We're not going anywhere," she announced. They all kicked on their mag boots as the thrust gravity disappeared.

Holden sat sullen for a moment, then lunged to his feet in Naomi's face. She didn't even flinch as he gave her his hardest look. No way was she backing down; he was just pouting. She felt Amos take a protective step toward her, but she had Holden in hand; he wasn't going to do anything. The XO scowled at her for another moment, then stalked off as she continued to stare him down. Amos checked in with her silently with his eyes. _You ok? Need me to do anything to him?_ She answered simply by turning away. It was over.

"Naomi, what's wrong with the radio?"

"Board's cooked, and I'm guessing the antenna array up top has seen better days." They were all exhausted, both physically and emotionally, since the _Cant_ blew up before their eyes. But they had to try to do something. Trapped on this short-range shuttle, they wouldn't survive unless someone came to their rescue.

"See if you can improvise another board. I'm gonna go outside and see what's what." Holden pulled himself wearily to his feet.

"Great, we'll wait here," Amos said with heat, making it clear he felt the man had no authority over him. Naomi stiffened. Holden may have been full of bad ideas all day, but at least he was actually being helpful now. Amos didn't need to be making more trouble.

Before she could say anything, Alex broke in hesitantly. "I don't mean to be a bad news bull or anything, but uh… the airlock's done. The outer door is gone."

Holden didn't miss a beat. "Then we'll have to vent the ship." He said it like it was no problem.

Alex voiced all their thoughts in his own colorful way. "Are you out of your tree?"

"We'll lose all oxygen in the cabin," Naomi stated flatly.

"Everything depends on fixing that radio. We're wasting time."

"There you go," Amos said, a note of warning in his voice, "calling the shots again."

"Amos," she interrupted gently, making her decision, "go with him." She wished he was this willing to mutiny before they poked their noses in and the _Cant_ got blown up, but now their only option was to pull together and try whatever they could to make it out alive. And Holden really did have the best plan.

Amos looked at her for a long moment, then dropped the attitude and gathered his things. Naomi let go of a breath she didn't know she was holding. She still had him in hand; he was going to trust her judgment. She had always been able to keep him out of trouble before, but when he got this emotional she could see the struggle it took to keep his impulses in check. And they did not need Amos' kind of trouble right now.

"As far as I'm concerned, she's the Cap now," Naomi heard Amos say to Holden as they worked out on the antenna; they were still talking on the general channel. She couldn't help but smile at that; while she had no real interest in command, it was good to be reminded the big man was solidly at her back. She might be the only one of them that was really thinking straight in this crisis, and Amos' support would really help her take charge if she needed to.

The replacement radio board had been easier to cobble together than she had thought. She fiddled with some of the settings and watched a few readouts, but she really had nothing to do until the boys were finished outside. She wondered what else they were saying to each other; they must have switched to a private channel. She hoped Amos wasn't making Holden squirm too much. They did all need to work together to survive.

"The antenna's working, but, our signal's still too weak. The antenna was severed from the power grid. It's done." She hated to give up hope, but the facts were the facts.

"Can't we… rig ourselves an amplifier?" Holden suggested, ever the optimist.

Everyone perked up. That wasn't actually a bad idea.

"We're gonna need a shitload of power," Amos pointed out.

"Take everything apart," Naomi said, thoughts racing almost faster than her words. There was absolutely a chance this could work; she could see the design building in her mind already. "Be fast, and careful, we're inside a balloon with a pin here. If it has a battery, a power pack, any charge capability, it goes into the pile."

Naomi jumped down the hatch, grabbed the first suitable part she saw. She banged it back up on the ops deck, noticed not one of the others had moved. Seriously? "I'm sorry, does anyone need a backrub first?" she barked. Sure it was a long shot, and everyone was exhausted, but she knew she could make it work. Even in what could be the final hours of her life, she was still being underestimated? Unbelievable.

"Even if anyone hears our SOS, they're just going to think we're pirates," Shed said bitterly as they stripped the cargo hold for parts.

"Well we're just gonna have to pray there's another caring soul out there like Ade." Alex commented.

"Ade?" Amos asked.

"She's why we're in this shit right now." Shed complained. "If she hadn't gone and logged that stupid distress call-"

"Hey!" Holden barked. Naomi had to think fast to head this off. "You don't know what you're talking about." He was turning menacingly toward Shed. "Wanna keep your teeth in your mouth?"

She didn't have time for finesse. She banged the dead transmitter in her hand against the nearest pipe, the sudden crash drawing the attention of everyone's reptile brain. "We're wasting air," she said pointedly, staring them all down. Naomi was not going to let this crew turn on each other, no matter how willing the boys all seemed to be to do it. If Holden wasn't up to his job, she would fucking step up. One by one, they turned and got back to work.

"You want to unburden your soul," she hissed lowly at Holden when he came over to her, "do it on your own time. On the remotest chance we get off this alive." Wasn't he trained as an officer in the UN Navy? He had handled Shed's panic with finesse, earlier. She knew he could do better than this. "We have enough problems right now."

"Yes, sir," Holden replied sullenly.

The MCRN _Donnager_ was bearing down on them. "Listen, we're the only ones who know what happened on the Cant. If we get on that ship, chances are we're never coming out." Holden looked over at the comm panel. "Unless…"

"What are you doing?" Naomi asked, already dreading his next bright idea.

"Buying us insurance." He sat down, opened up a transmission. "My name is James Holden, speaking for the five survivors of the Canterbury. Our ship was destroyed answering a bogus SOS from a ship called the _Scopuli_. We discovered a false beacon and identified it as Martian Naval technology. It was a trap. We are about to be taken aboard the MCRN _Donnager_ …" he went on doggedly as everyone tried to protest.

"Alex, shut him down!" Naomi ordered, ready to relieve Holden of command completely. This was way too risky. The rest of the crew struggled in vain as he kept on talking.

"We intend to cooperate in hopes this means we won't be harmed."

Naomi heard a gun cock. "Should I smoke him?" Amos asked.

Holden stopped talking. Everyone froze in horror.

"Say the word," he said calmly to Naomi, face soft and open. Like a knight placing his sword at her feet. When he looked at her like that, the rush of power was incredible. She was transfixed for a moment.

"We're dead anyway," Holden said.

Then her mind finished processing the situation, realized how far things had escalated. This transmission was a shit idea, but it didn't call for a summary execution. Of course no one was shooting Jim Holden. She shook her head incredulously no, looked away in disgust. Killing was never going to be the right call.

"Any such action would only confirm that the Canterbury was destroyed by Mars," Holden finished.

The tension dropped out of the room, though Amos didn't lower the gun until Holden sat back, transmission complete.

Naomi hung her head in utter exhaustion. Managing these boys was going to be the death of her. The thought of even turning to look at Amos right now filled her brain with an almost physical pain. She was aware of him still, rummaging around behind them doing God knows what. But the comfort his presence used to hold for her was being corroded. He had jumped several orders of magnitude past a sane response. Not only was Amos perfectly willing to kill the man they had been shipping with for years, but he thought that was something she might want? She was seeing a side of her friend she had really only glimpsed before, and it was scary as hell.

It wasn't going to be long before they were boarded by the Martian marines. The _Donnager_ was already maneuvering to line them up with its docking bay. Naomi and most of the others just sat, conserving their strength. Naomi had a thought that came with a sudden spike of anxiety. "Amos, get rid of that gun," she called, turning her head in the direction he had gone.

"Already taken care of," he said loudly, voice full of false cheer as he came back up the ladder. "Threatening a bunch of Marines while we're in the belly of their warship ain't gonna accomplish anything."

Well, at least he knew that.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: here comes part one of my headcanon for how Naomi and Amos' dynamic developed. The only thing that kills me is the show explicitly states that Holden's been on the Cant longer than them (when in the books it's the opposite, and that really fits my read of them all so much better). But I can work with it._

 _Canterbury_

 _Three years previously_

Naomi Nagata, chief engineer of the _Canterbury_ , was just walking onto the ageing ice hauler, headed for the reactor level. They were currently docked on Ceres station, prepping for their next run. She cursed under her breath as she reviewed the long list of repairs and maintenance tasks she had deemed necessary before they left for the several-month-long trip to Saturn and back. No way in hell they were all going to get done.

Head bent over her hand terminal, she almost bumped into the second officer striding in the other direction. "Whoa, slow down kid!" Jim Holden chided in that condescending tone she couldn't stand. She changed her course to make room for him without looking up. "Oh, Naomi," he called after she passed, like he had just barely realized who she was. "The new crew assignments just came down from the company. They're giving you an assistant."

"Finally," she growled to herself, tearing her eyes from the list and turning back toward Holden.

He had his own terminal out, searching through files. "Here," he said when he arrived at the right one. "His name is… Amos Burton." She stretched out her hand and he waved his terminal past hers, transferring the file. Then he went back to reading it aloud, as if she couldn't just do that herself. "Transferring off the _Skylark_ , which it looks like they're finally decommissioning." Holden looked around at the ageing bulkheads surrounding them. "Damn, I bet the _Cant's_ not much further down that list."

"You just leave that one to me," Naomi scoffed. "Keep signing my requisitions and I'll keep this ship flying."

Holden gave her a little salute and continued down the hall. He wasn't the worst officer she had worked under, but as far as she could tell he had not earned the arrogance he carried himself with. Which was annoying as hell.

Naomi opened the personnel file and resumed course for the reactor level. She had kind of been hoping the next person assigned to her department would be female; even in this day and age, male mechanical types often had a hard time accepting a female superior. She was just so tired of the bullshit. She would have to come on extra tough, ride this guy hard for the first few weeks, make an impression.

The file told her the _Cant_ 's new assistant engineer had only been with Pur'N'Kleen for a few years, a young-ish man who had been bounced a lot from ship to ship. Naomi wondered why. There tended to be only two types of people working on long-range ice haulers like this one: those that couldn't get any other kind of work, and those who wanted to hide for one reason or another. While the latter often meant drama or abrasive personalities, she was actually hoping for that option over incompetence. She had a lot of work to get done and not a lot of time to coddle a screw-up. Unfortunately, there was so little information in Amos Burton's file, she was just going to have to wait and see.

By the afternoon she was sweaty, tired, and covered in grease. The few of the mechanical crew staying on between runs, those that weren't too drunk to work, just didn't provide enough manpower to get everything done. She was pushing them hard, and herself harder. Squatting under a console, replacing some worn-out wiring, she heard the heavy steps of unfamiliar boots coming into the room. "Naomi Nagata," a new voice requested gruffly. The new engineer already?

Naomi wiped her hands on her coveralls as she pulled herself out from under the console. "That's me," she said curtly, already pulling on her hard-ass face, the one that just kept coming easier and easier these days. She turned and looked up at him. And up and up. He was easily the height of an average Belter, but his thick build marked him for Earth-born. He had to be working out like crazy to maintain that kind of muscle mass outside of a gravity well. Naomi wondered if he was ex-military, or just vain. She met his gaze coolly. "And you are…?"

"Amos Burton," he said with an easy smile, putting his hand out to shake. A careless, or naïve person might mistake that smile for genuine, but Naomi could see his cheerfulness was only skin deep. "I'm your new grease monkey."

Naomi took his hand in a firm, professional shake. "On my ship, Assistant Engineer means a little more than that."

Amos shrugged. He did it with his shoulders, and a split second later his hands came up in the Belter version of the gesture. It softened her impression of him a bit. He may be an Earther, but he might not be arrogant about it, seemed to be trying to assimilate to Belter ways. Or maybe he had just been up here a long time.

"You didn't need to report in this early, I'm surprised to see you," Naomi said, continuing to talk as she returned to work. "You're not due to start until next week. The _Skylark_ only just got in what, five days ago?"

"Ran out of stuff to do," the big man said simply. "Need a hand with anything?"

"I could use about fifty. But for starters…" she cast her eyes around the room, looking for something to challenge his patience with. She'd rather see what he was made of before they were barreling through vacuum together. She pointed to an open access port in the bulkhead. "The main water recycler's through there. I keep hearing a clicking when it kicks on. See if you can figure out what it is. And while you're at it," she added, as if it were an afterthought, "take the whole thing apart and clean it."

She expected grumbling, argument, thinly veiled anger. Amos' flat cheerfulness didn't even hiccup. "You got it, boss. Where can I find some tools?"

The first run with her new assistant had gone well. The trip was uneventful, and Amos remained just as low-key and ready to work every day, watching Naomi carefully and assimilating to her way of doing things around the ship without complaint. She was glad to be able to drop some of the tough, barking attitude once she realized she wasn't going to have to be battling with him for respect. In fact, this might have been the most pleasant run she'd had since she first signed on with the company.

"Yeah, I'm staying on for the next round," she heard Amos say to another member of the mechanical team. They were all standing around near the lower airlock, waiting for their turn to pass through and disembark at Ceres station. Naomi turned to him, flashed him an approving smile. "How about you, boss?" he asked in response.

She laughed. "You can consider me a lifer. This ship would never make it without me."

Amos grunted his agreement. "I believe that."

Conversation lulled as they all filed through the airlock, showed their IDs at the docks' customs gate. Just before the point where the crew would all be going their separate ways, mostly whooping toward bars or brothels, Naomi made a sudden decision and turned her face up to Amos. "I want some real food. Belter food," she said with a gleam in her eye. "Have you ever had home-cooked dhejet? With a nice egg curry?"

"Not sure," said Amos. "Sounds good." Naomi was surprised to hear herself inviting the big man to eat with her. She usually couldn't wait to get away from the crew when the _Cant_ was in-station, after months of the same stories, same jokes, the reek of the same bodies. But, with their first run together complete, Naomi realized she wasn't actually sick of Amos yet. She shrugged off the uncomfortable feeling of warmth for another human being. She probably just asked him because there were parts of Ceres it was better to go to with someone at your back.

"The Earth corps control all the vending contracts on the main levels," Naomi said as she waved him toward the tube station. "Awful imitation versions of Earth food. But I know some neighborhoods where licenses are… optional. I hope Doksha is still in business."

They got off the tube to a platform teeming with life, almost entirely made of lanky Belters chattering in ten different languages all at once. The hallways were crowded with haphazard stalls, between doorways to slightly more proper stores cut into the rock of the asteroid. This deep in, the spin gravity was less effective, and the Coriolis effect tugged at her gently sideways. It felt like home, with all the complicated emotions that came with that feeling. Naomi heaved one deep breath and pushed those thoughts aside. She just wanted some food.

"Are all the businesses down here unlicensed?" Amos asked, open, expressionless face momentarily illuminated by the harsh blue sign promising "girls, girls, girls" next to the doorway they were walking past. Two women leaned against the frame, trying to hide sadness with sexualized smiles that came out looking ferocious. Naomi shrugged with her hands and turned away, not wanting to know what her coworker thought about unlicensed brothels.

They found what she was looking for after a few more minutes of exploring, a rickety stall surrounding some steaming pots. Naomi stepped up to the salvaged metal counter, ordered two bowls. As she fished her hand terminal out of her pocket to pay, someone bumped into her and she fumbled, dropping the device to the floor. She cursed under her breath and bent to pick it up. A dirty child darted in from the crowd, scooping the device up just before Naomi's hand had closed on it. The kid was already dashing off as Naomi emitted a cry of protest.

Amos' hand landed heavily on the kid's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Naomi rushed over to make sure the big man didn't hurt him. "Oy," she said, dropping into a squat so she could look the kid in the eye. "Sa-sa que esa belongs to me, ya?" She held out her upturned palm and waited.

Anger boiled up in the tiny face for a moment, then fear won out and he dropped the terminal into her hand. Amos released his grip, but Naomi took the child's hand gently before he could bolt.

"Are you hungry, bebe?" she asked softly.

The kid looked at her warily, then up at Amos, who flashed him a toothy grin. "We don't want nothin' from you," he reassured, hands turned out harmlessly. "My friend's just one of those charitable types," his gaze flicking to Naomi, "apparently."

The kid turned back to Naomi and nodded solemnly. She stood and called back over the counter. "Make that three."

Amos looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time.

Naomi was just getting herself to bed in the cheap motel she liked to use between runs, after finally finishing a particularly tricky retrofit on one of the Cant's thrusters. She jumped when her hand terminal suddenly began chirping insistently. It was well past the middle of the night according to Ceres' artificial light schedule, who was even up to bother her right now?

The screen showed an incoming call from Star Helix private security, the corrupt and often-uncaring body that was the closest thing Ceres Station had to a police force. Naomi had a few encounters with them in her youth, and the experience had never been pleasant. She took an apprehensive breath, and tapped "accept."

"Naomi Nagata?" a bored-looking woman in a neat uniform asked. Naomi nodded, brows furrowed. "I have an… Amos Burton here in lockup. He says he crews on the _Canterbury,_ gave us your name. We're ready to process and release him to your custody, whenever you can get here."

Naomi felt a wave of irritation. What the fuck did he do? "I'm not an officer, why are you calling me?"

"This is the contact info he gave us. Are you coming down?"

Naomi almost said no. But a surprising feeling of protectiveness surged up her throat. Amos was starting to feel like a friend, and she realized she'd miss him if he wasn't on the next run. "Yeah, give me a minute."

She climbed into a clean pair of coveralls and took the tube to the Star Helix station. She tried to stand tall walking through the front doors, reminding herself she wasn't seventeen anymore, and the authorities had no reason to hassle her. She gave her name tersely at reception. "They said you have my crewman in lockup. Amos Burton."

The yawning officer tapped on the terminal in front of him. It was so late, pretty soon the hall lights would be coming back up to artificial daylight. "He's in the drunk tank," he said, "I'm calling someone up to get you now."

God damn it. She was missing what little sleep she might have gotten tonight, because her newest engineer had been out 'disturbing the peace?'

A few minutes later, a hard-faced man with close-cropped hair appeared at the door to her left and waved her through. It was a short walk through smooth-carved walls of Ceres bedrock before they reached a large cell viewable through one-way glass. Angry and wobbly men, mostly Belters, sat or paced inside the chamber, filling the space evenly except for a carefully avoided area at the back left corner. A glowering Amos Burton sat there, physically intimidating the entire room through slitted eyes, even though one could barely open due to bruising, the other due to obvious intoxication. Smears of blood decorated his shirt.

"What happened to him?" Naomi said in shock.

"You should see the other guy!" her escort joked. "I'm the arresting officer. I should say 'other guys.' He put three of 'em in the hospital tonight." She turned and looked at him in horror. "You're lucky you're not dealing with a murder charge. It took two of us to rip him off the last one."

She processed that for a moment. "Why are you letting him go tonight, then? Shouldn't you be charging him with something?"

The officer spat on the floor. "They were Loca Griega assholes. Good on him, I say. They all fucking deserved it. Your company pays the fine, we're all square here."

How did the saying go? 'There are no laws on Ceres, only cops.' And a big enough bribe could make anything go away, if they were feeling merciful. Naomi turned back to look at Amos, who was swaying slightly even though he was seated. "Can he even walk?" Naomi asked. What was she going to do with the man in this state? Did he even remember where he was staying on this giant station?

The cop shrugged. "That's your problem. Ready to do the paperwork?"

Naomi called the XO, who after some coaxing got someone from Pur'n'Kleen legal on the phone, who after twenty minutes of grilling her decided yes, they would cover the fine and take it out of Amos' wages for the next few ice runs. Naomi hoped he was ok with her signing him up for two more years on the _Cant_. She figured it was better than being abandoned and stranded in a prison cell. He was probably lucky his drink-addled brain had asked for her to come down instead of the XO or the Cap; it seemed like it was only her vouching for his usefulness on her crew that convinced the company to settle up and keep him on.

He'd better fucking appreciate it.

When all the forms were signed, the arresting officer walked her back to the drunk tank and unlocked the door. A wave of stale sweat and piss smells assaulted her and she took a step back. "Burton, you're up," he called, and Amos swung to his feet like he forgot they were at low gravity. The other prisoners shied back as he stomped to the door, pausing to blow them a kiss before he stepped through. Great, he was still feeling feisty. Naomi braced herself for attitude when he turned and saw her.

"Hey boss!" he said with aggressive false cheer. "Appreciate you comin' down." Then he turned to his arresting officer. "We good here?"

"You should probably steer clear of bars like La Mariposa from now on," he advised good-naturedly. "Probably stay off that whole level. Wouldn't want to be carting you to the hospital, or the morgue, next time."

"Never would happen," Amos said confidently. He turned to Naomi. "Time to go?" He swayed only slightly.

Once they were out of the station, Naomi stopped him. "You got lucky. The company almost didn't bail you out."

Amos beamed a sudden smile. "Lucky I got you lookin' out for me then, boss." Naomi wasn't sure if she had ever really seen him smile so sincerely. Must be the drink.

"I'm serious," she continued, unswayed. "And what the hell were you doing at La Mariposa, anyway? In the mood to beat up some Belters?" she accused. "Because I'm sure no one welcomed you in, at that place." Naomi knew the spot; the young and angry Belters that patronized it mostly sported O.P.A. tats and growled about the Inner Planets all night.

Amos shrugged at her, arms wide. "I've got no problem with Belters. You know me, I love everybody," he said sarcastically. "But it's pretty easy to find Belters on this station that seem to have a problem with me. And, ya know, sometimes I'm in the mood to give em a shot, let em try to work out some of their issues." He smirked, like he had just remembered a good joke. "Sometimes I go to different bars, let the Earth guys see if they've got any muscle fibers left up here."

Naomi scowled. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. You're not doing that anymore."

Amos fixed her with his squinty, bleary-eyed gaze for a long moment. Naomi kept her face firm. She felt like she was staring down a wild animal that might bolt, or attack, if she showed the slightest hesitation.

He broke eye contact first. "You got it, boss."

She ended up taking him on board the _Cant_ , so she could use supplies from the medbay to patch up the various scrapes and abrasions he was covered with. The autodoc was flushing most of the remaining alcohol from his system while she worked, so by the time she was done Amos was almost asleep. She left him in a bunk on the ship to sleep it off, just in time to pass the rest of the mechanical team on their way in to start the day's shift. They assumed she'd pulled an all-nighter on some repair again. Which, she mused, wasn't really too far from the truth.

After that night, Naomi made it a point to keep Amos busy when they were in-station. If all he did for fun was drink and fight, she was not going to give him much time for fun. There was always something that needed doing when the _Cant_ was docked. The ship probably wouldn't still be flying if Naomi didn't work her extra projects after-hours, and Amos didn't resist when she started asking him to stay late with her. Which was something she would have been doing anyway. Naomi was most at peace when she was losing herself in work, in fixing things. She was on the _Cant_ to hide from her past, she could admit that, and she didn't often desire a life outside of the endless tasks this job provided. Perhaps taking care of Amos was a natural extension of that. There was an endearing innocence underneath his rough demeanor that made her forgive the bullshit of that night, made him seem worth salvaging.

It didn't happen all at once, but Naomi came to realize that she really liked Amos' company. On the next water run they found themselves sitting next to each other often in the galley, deep in hypothetical conversations about engineering problems and handling worst-case scenarios. Even when they didn't talk, his still presence was becoming more and more reassuring. And what he didn't say, didn't do, might have been the most comforting part of him. He never asked her about her past. He never hit on her, beyond the usual jokes mechanic types always made, never with any intensity behind them. He never pushed for any sort of intimacy at all, other than the kind that came from quietly being there at her back, supporting everything she needed without a word. It was more companionship than she had allowed herself in a long time. It felt good.


	4. Chapter 4

**Episode Three: Remember the Cant**

Naomi had thought she was exhausted after the _Canterbury_ blew, and they had struggled and scrambled to seal the broken airlock. She thought she was beyond tired after Alex and Shed almost asphyxiated before the antenna could be repaired, and she thought she'd used her last bit of emotional energy after the _Donnager_ pinged them and Holden sent out his foolhardy transmission. Now, after undergoing several more hours of imprisonment and interrogation, she felt like she could just float away. She felt like a piece of metal salvaged and repurposed so many times, that if another person even spoke to her she might shatter. She followed her armored Marine guard down the hallway with heavy steps, still trying to look hard, not to give anything away. But she was hollowed out.

They weren't taking her back to the cellblock where she had been separated from the rest of the crew. She hoped Amos had managed to restrain himself when she left; she doubted multiple doses of that sedative they gave him would be healthy to receive in the same day. Then she imagined how Amos was likely to react if an interrogator like hers had started pushing his buttons. He had definitely received another shot.

Thinking of the interrogation soured her stomach. Despite what she had said about having no regrets, she was fighting hard to push down the emotions menacing the back of her mind at even the reminder that she had a life before the _Cant._ She did not need to be answering for the entire course of her life when she had just narrowly escaped death, several times now. And she felt a lingering shame at her inability to keep Holden's secret under the Martian's questioning, though he certainly had drawn the incorrect conclusion from it. The idea that Holden and she were working together with the O.P.A. to blow up the Cant and frame Mars for it was… exhausting.

They reached a new door, which the lead guard unlocked with a few taps on a panel. Naomi wasn't moving fast enough for the guard behind her, who gave a push on the shoulder to send her into the room. Naomi twisted him off irritably, then looked inside. The other four survivors of the _Cant_ were all free, whole, and scowling at each other. Amos turned, came to the door to greet her as the guards closed it behind her. As he approached, his body language was still threatening, shoulders back, chest puffed out; they must have just been arguing. His eyes were soft, however, and he stood very close to her. "You ok?"

Naomi nodded a little too fast, the sight of her friend's sympathetic face cracking some of her resolute hardness and showing how unsettled she felt underneath. "You?" she asked, reaching her palm up to his cheek with a concerned smile. It wasn't something she normally did, touching him, but she found she really needed to pull him in, to connect right now. Grabbing a lifeline in the void. His answering smile showed her how much he needed that connection too. They were never this soft with one another, this intimate, and yet it felt entirely natural.

She only allowed herself the one moment of comfort, then gathered herself up to be the commanding force she saw reflected in his eyes. Having him at her side made it easier. She saw him relax just to have her with him, and in charge again. And they all needed Amos to stay relaxed. Her hand left his cheek, patted him idly on the shoulder, trailed down his chest as she turned to face the hostile frowns of the rest of their crew.

Holden didn't dance around it. "Are you O.P.A.?"

"Unbelievable," she scoffed, stepping forward offensively. "Coming from you?" She felt Amos match steps behind her, adding his strength to hers.

"Just answer the question, darlin'," Alex drawled.

"I'm not your 'darling,' and you're obviously one of them," she snarled, noticing the MCRN uniform their pilot was suddenly wearing.

"You didn't answer my question," Holden said calmly, stepping forward.

"Are we putting all our cards on the table here?" she flung at him, hoping he'd realize she was still keeping a secret that would turn everyone against him in an instant.

Alex cut in before Holden could respond. "Look kids, these Navy boys are not going to play with us all day. So unless you all want to spend the rest of your lives breaking big rocks into little ones on Olympus Mons, somebody had better come clean." "You stopped me from chasing down the ship that killed the _Cant._ Why?" Holden asked Naomi.

"Because you were being a reckless idiot."

"Oh yeah? Or was it because they were friends of yours?"

"Watch your mouth," Amos cut in. Naomi glared over her shoulder at him; comments like that weren't going to help convince anyone.

"And you!" Holden turned his ire to the big man at her back. "No one knows anything about you. Except you do whatever _she_ says."

"So what was my big plan, huh?" Naomi demanded, side stepping between the two before Amos could rain a response down on Holden with his fists. "To sit on a shit bucket like the _Cant_ for five years while all of this got set up?"

"Sleeper agents," Alex said triumphantly, "ever heard of them?"

Then he took one step too close to Naomi. Amos came flying past her shoulder, swinging his arms around the Martian's neck and coming around him in a choke hold. "Human shields, you ever heard of them?" The room erupted into chaos. "Call the guards," Amos said to Holden with a crazed glee in his eye, "he'll take the first few bullets."

Naomi continued staring Holden down, thinking furiously. She was pretty sure she hadn't lost control of Amos completely, and maybe she could work his violent outburst to her advantage.

"Hey!" Holden bellowed with the voice of authority. "Enough!" He actually got Amos' attention, though not enough to get him to release the poor pilot's neck. Holden looked deliberately up at the ceiling. "I'm ready to talk!"

It took Naomi a moment to realize what he meant. He was calling the guards. Ready to talk? What the hell did he have to say?

Her recent interrogator and several armed Marines opened the door. Amos turned to face them, holding Alex like a threat. "Let him go," the freakishly calm Martian ordered.

Amos tipped his chin up in defiance. Naomi could see he couldn't tell the moment was over; there was no more point in threatening violence. "Amos," she said gently for what felt like the tenth time today, "Do it." She was getting just a little tired of reminding him how to be human.

His wild eyes turned, seemed to re-focus as his rational mind started to come back online. Amos thrust the gasping pilot away from him, backed away but didn't take his eyes off the guards. The Martians ignored him and asked Holden to step out. Naomi stared daggers at her XO as he walked past her, though he didn't look at her. He had better not be about to make up stories about her, just for the chance to save his own ass. But what else could he be intending?

 **Episode Four: CQB**

"Atmosphere systems are still out. I figure we have maybe twenty minutes of air left." Naomi went to the emergency supply locker.

"What are you doing?" Alex demanded.

"Sedative." She turned around, syringe in hand. "There's enough here to take one of us out, which will slow down their breathing, and cut down our oxygen use. Maybe buy us a little more extra time," she pleaded with the two men. Everyone was close to panic now. Amos nodded at her.

"For what?" Alex asked. "You think someone's going to come and get us?"

"We don't have comms, we can't call for help, do you got a better plan?" Amos shouted back at him.

"It's my idea, I'll take the shot," Naomi said, lacking the energy to keep arguing.

"No," Amos said almost before the words were out of her mouth, "we need you conscious." He meant _he_ needed her.

"He's an Earther," Alex began, pointing aggressively at Amos, "he uses the most air, he should do it."

"I can carry you, you can't carry me," Amos shot back.

The ship rocked with the impact of more rounds. "Dammit," Alex said in defeat. He sat in a crash couch and looked at the syringe forlornly, then fixed the two of them with a serious gaze. "I want to wake up." Then he pressed the plunger into his neck, and his focus went inward.

Naomi and Amos hurried over to strap him in, then watched him lose consciousness completely. Naomi leaned back against the wall next to the pilot, trying to catch her breath, center herself. Her eyes fell instead on Shed's headless corpse still strapped to the wall across the room. She slid to the floor, tried desperately to keep from crying. It was all hitting her at once. So many lost, so many near misses herself, and now it was down to just her and Amos.

She felt him drop down next to her. She couldn't look at him. She had been strong for so long, for herself but also for him. She couldn't let him see the breakdown, the despair in her eyes. There was nothing to do now but wait. That made it so much harder. They might be evacuated, but they would probably suffocate and die, forgotten. Just some O.P.A. prisoner scum, if the Martians believed what Holden was probably telling them.

It sounded like the Donnager was losing this fight. She tried to take comfort in the idea that their traitor XO probably wouldn't make it out either. But it didn't make her feel any better. He may have abandoned them, he may not. Before he called her O.P.A., she had believed that while foolish, he had a good and loyal heart. She found she couldn't waste any more energy on worrying about him either way, now.

They were probably going to die. Her thoughts turned to her past, struggled to make her peace with things. She still wasn't ready.

Amos broke her thoughts, unexpectedly. "I want to say thank you."

Naomi turned to him, trying to let her own regrets go and listen to what might be his last words.

"You know, for helping me all those times you did."

Some of those memories floated across her consciousness. She remembered the sight of him sitting in the Star Helix drunk tank, almost choked on a bitter smile.

"You're a good person."

That hit her right in the stomach. Amos still didn't know the things she had done. "I could have been better," she replied bitterly. Her regrets threatened to overwhelm her, one above all. "I didn't even get to say goodbye…"

Amos waited for her to elaborate. "To who?"

Naomi found even now, she couldn't speak of it. "It doesn't matter," she said, and wiped away the first tear to fall.

The ship rocked again. Another spike of adrenaline rocketed through her misery, fear of the end threatening to undo her completely. She closed her eyes, trying to brace herself, felt herself losing the battle. Felt Amos' hand on hers, tentative at first. She looked up at him in surprise, fear momentarily forgotten. She wasn't sure if he had ever touched her before. His eyes were locked on their hands, concentrating on lacing his fingers between her own, then his movements gained confidence and he settled his arm comfortably to brace hers against his body.

Naomi let out a long sigh, closed her eyes again. The turmoil still raged in her head, but she knew now she would not be overwhelmed. She was not alone.

Naomi had decided a long time ago that she didn't want anyone getting too close to her. She had secrets to keep, shameful secrets that kept her from deserving love, intimacy, connection. But the quiet companionship of the monster beside her, she could allow herself that. Amos was a frightening man; something appeared to be missing from his soul. He didn't seem to really know right from wrong. All of that made her feel safe. Safe from her demons to have one beside her. She would never tell him the secrets that damned her, but every time she looked into his eyes she knew she would never see any judgment there, even if he knew.

And somehow, he even made her feel safe from herself. Every time she stopped him from hurting someone, every time she kept him out of trouble, every time she taught him a new way to fix the ship, make things better, she was redeeming herself, asserting her ability to do good things in the world, make amends and control the monsters. If this was the end, at least they were facing it together.

Her eyes opened to Holden's concerned face behind an EVA mask. "You came back?" she said incredulously, as her brain regained enough oxygen to stay conscious. She had been sure he was off saving himself. Apparently they might not die today.


	5. Chapter 5

Naomi had a feeling when she saw the knot of young buckers huddled together, all boastful growls and raucous laughter, that she should have walked right back out of the _Cant's_ galley, caught up on a few more tasks and eaten dinner a little later. The bored young men had little to do other than drink and cause trouble until they reached Saturn's ring and it was time to cut and load the ice. She ignored her better judgment and plopped down at the other end of the table, hunching over her tray and doing her best to ignore them. Amos slid into place beside her a moment later.

The banter of the young men started to take the cadence of ranting, and she noticed they were surreptitiously passing a bottle around. "To pochuye ke?" the angriest of the young Belters said more loudly, "da Belt im full of riches. Lithium, molybdinium, we pull palladium out of asteroids every day."

"You don't," one of his friends mocked, "you buck simple owkwa, just like the rest of us."

"Pensa who takes that ice when we dock, gets to sell it back to Beltalowda?"

Naomi heaved a loud sigh and fixed the boys with a heavy scowl. She was not in the mood for O.P.A. bullshit tonight. Maybe just reminding them they were sharing the room with someone who outranked them would tone it down.

A few of the kids looked at her sheepishly, but the loud one continued on, uncaring. She thought his name was Trang. "Earth and Mars won't ever respect us unless Beltalowda give them something to respect. Send a real mesach about what we're capable of. Blow a few of their corporate outposts, maybe their private lunar stations, that outta do it. Stay the fuck out of the Belt, dzhemangs."

"And who lives on those seteshangs?" Naomi asked quietly, looking not at Trang but at a quiet young man who had been slowly nodding. "Earth reps visit a lot, sure. But who lives there, does all the little things that need doing on a space station?"

Trang gave an angry scowl, made a dismissive hand gesture. "Wel walla scum. So wa peng."

"Mothers," Naomi replied sharply, her voice still quiet. "Sons. Belter kids. Your grandma cleans up those fancy Earth offices after hours. Your pampa works maintenance on their life support system, best-paying job he could get. You're willing to blow them up too, eh coyo?"

She could see Trang make a gesture of contempt in her direction, but she ignored it and kept going.

"I know you don't give a shit about the Earther lives you're talking about, though you should. They're all somebody's children too, working a job and making a living like the rest of us."

"Inyalowda shouldn't be coming up here and treating us lik towchu!" Trang screeched, standing and taking a step toward her. Amos shifted threateningly in response; Naomi laid a hand on his arm to calm him without even thinking about it.

"Our grandmothers came up here first, that's all. We're all Earthers, somehow," Naomi said softly, mournfully. "We're all just people."

Trang took two quick strides, covering the distance between them in a heartbeat. He bared his upper arm in her face aggressively, like the O.P.A. split circle etched in his skin there could somehow burn her into agreeing with him. "I am Belta lik pashang! Do you even remember who you are, ses," the he inclined his head toward Amos, "or did his little Earth dick fuck it out of you?"

Naomi held the kid's stare coolly, but her hand snatched itself off Amos' arm like it burned. "You idiots don't care how many innocent lives you destroy, just to prove your point. You're not my people. I am a Belter, yes. But the O.P.A. bullshit doesn't represent me. And you're nakangepensa if you think taking more innocent lives wouldn't stain your cause and damn your soul." She stood, and realized she was shaking. "Killing is never going to be the answer."

She walked out. Before she rounded the corner she saw Amos silhouetted in the doorway, casually carrying their half-eaten food trays to the recycler, like nothing interesting had happened all day. He gave her a respectful nod when he caught up with her, and no more was said about it.

The hollowed-out center of the ancient ship was now filled with a huge glacier of ice. The cutters and buckers had just finished securing it into its new home for the next two months; Naomi could hear them whooping and hollering their way back to celebrate in the galley. Hopefully in better moods than the last time she had encountered them.

Naomi and Amos were headed the opposite way. One of the giant crane arms used to help position and secure the ice in the hold had shorted out during the loading process. Cap wanted it working again before he put the ship under thrust, taking no chances on the ice shifting in flight and causing expensive damage.

Naomi floated along the hall, enjoying the zero g lull that allowed her to bounce off the walls to navigate. She had two EVA suits tucked under her arm, as the inside of the hold was in vacuum. She hoped they wouldn't need them, however. Their first stop was at an access panel in the hallway. It could just be an electrical problem on the back end here. Amos engaged his magnetic boots, pulled a few screws, and together they took a large section of the bulkhead down. Pushing a mess of tubes and conduits aside, Naomi climbed into the guts of the ship, reaching back for the buried motor unit of the crane arm anchored to the wall on the other side of the space.

"I see the problem," she called to Amos. Only her feet hung out into the hallway at this point, and she was having trouble finding a way to fit her body into the tightly packed compartment more comfortably, even without the limitations of gravity. "Barely any room to work, though. You'll have to stay out there and just pass me what I need."

"Keeping all the fun to yourself, boss? I see how it is."

Naomi smiled and started the work. She really needed at least three hands to do this properly, but there was no way Amos' bulk was squeezing in here next to her, no matter how friendly they were willing to get with each other. She settled for holding things in place with her elbows while working carefully with her hands.

"Hey, look, it's the little Earth dick," she heard a new voice coming down the hallway. It sounded like that O.P.A. shit Trang. She heard another voice laugh in response.

"At least mine works, I heard Belters can't even get it up outside of zero g," Amos replied, challenge and a hint of excitement in his voice.

Shit.

"Amos," Naomi called out, "I need some help. Can you pass me the soldering gun?" She really wanted to step out and defuse the situation, but she was at a tricky point in her work that she couldn't just set down.

"Hold up boss, we've got company out here," Amos replied, voice tight with that fierce cheerfulness he assumed when he was at his most aggressive.

"Now, Amos," she growled.

He gave a weird chuckle, and a moment later she felt him tapping the soldering gun against her outstretched leg. She could visualize him, physically intimidating Trang and whoever else was out there while still complying with her order, crouching to hand off the tool but never taking his eyes off the threat.

Naomi delicately transferred all the wires in her grip to one hand, reached down to take the gun from Amos. She hoped he would let this go. She hoped Trang would give it up and move on. She tried to finish up the rewiring as quickly as humanly possible.

"Is that your wel walla girlfriend in there?" Trang asked contemptuously. He added a few choice words for her in Belter that made her cheeks burn and his companion snicker. Thank god Amos wouldn't understand them.

"Watch your mouth, asshole," she heard Amos growl. Apparently he didn't have to.

"What do you think you're going to do about it, dzhemang? I got friends all over this ship. Real Beltalowda friends. You don't dare to fuck with me. You got nobody but that waste-of-air puta-"  
She heard a meaty sound that she really hoped wasn't Amos responding with his fist. But the shouts and scuffling crashes that followed confirmed it. She laid her last bead of solder and started extricating herself from behind the bulkhead.

By the time Naomi climbed out of the wall, one man was floating pretty quickly down the hallway, clutching his arm awkwardly and yelling for his buddies. He pushed off the wall disappeared around a corner. With his mag boots locked to the deck, Amos held a flailing Trang at the back of his head with one hand, other fist pounding repeatedly into his face. Droplets of blood were floating around them.

"Amos, stop!" she cried, but he didn't seem to hear her. Trang was emitting some kind of wet gurgling noise. It looked like he was killing him. Cringing, Naomi locked her own boots to the floor and reached out to lay her hand on Amos's shoulder, praying that he would recognize who was touching him before lashing out accidentally at her. "Amos, enough!"

He froze at her touch, bent arm about to let loose another blow. He swiveled his face around to look at her, teeth still bared in in a mad glee. It took all Naomi had not to recoil at the killing joy she saw in his eyes.

"You've made your point," she said firmly. She was surprised at the strength in her voice. Then she looked at Trang and couldn't stop herself from gasping. His face was a misery of red and purple. The blood in his mouth bubbled with his struggling breaths. Amos had gone way too far. "Put him down," she ordered with disgust, swallowing some rising bile as she disengaged and floated over to the control panel on the other side of the hallway. She tapped the emergency commlink, thinking hard as she waited for the connection. They needed security down here, before the other bucker came back with friends and things got worse. She watched Amos blink a few times, then released the other man to float and stepped back. He said something hard to Trang as he did, which she couldn't catch because the operator on duty answered her call at the same time.

"Is there a problem?"

"I need Security here," Naomi said, adding a little extra shake to her voice, "and maybe Medical."

"Naomi?" the voice asked. It must have been Joy, who she sometimes played cards with after hours. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. It's over now, I think. We had a… an altercation. Get that security team down here before anything sparks up again."

"Already pinged them," Joy said reassuringly. "They should get to you in just a few minutes. Want me to stay on the line?"

"No, that's alright sweetie," Naomi responded, adding warmth to her voice to reassure the woman. She needed the time to talk to Amos.

"Well all right, help is on the way," the woman said cheerfully, then closed the connection.

That was lucky. Naomi needed all the sympathy she could get if she was going to keep Amos out of the brig for the rest of the trip. The concern in Joy's voice was bound to predispose the security team in Naomi's favor. The big man was pacing with clunky steps, alternately glaring at Trang and watching the hall for the other man to come back. Trang floated in a fetal position, one hand weakly anchored to the wall, and did not seem like he would be causing any more trouble.

"Amos," Naomi said, calling his attention but remaining in her place opposite Trang. "Are you hurt?"

He cocked his head as he did a mental inventory of his body. "Nothing serious, boss." His knuckles were torn and bloody, but everything else looked all right.

"It'd be better if you were," Naomi sighed. "Just let me do the talking when security gets here."

Amos nodded, continued staring down the hallway. "Hope that other guy comes back with his friends first; I'm ready to rearrange a few more faces."

"No," Naomi said sharply, "If that happens you let me talk to them, too. You've done enough." She crossed her arms tightly around herself, hoping desperately the security team would show up first.

Trang emitted a low moan, eyes closed. Naomi looked down, torn between her disdain for him as a person, and sympathy for a fellow human being in pain. She almost disengaged her boots to go over to him, then stopped. She couldn't think of what kind of first aid might help a broken face.

Naomi let out a sigh of relief as two men from the security department came down the corridor, from the other direction than the injured bucker had gone. They looked from the man cowering by the wall, to Amos's hulking presence, to Naomi. She took a strategic step away from Trang, clutching at herself protectively. One guard, she thought his name was Rooney, put his hand on the taser at his hip. "What's going on here?"

"Thank you for getting here so fast," Naomi said, shooting one last warning look at Amos before taking a few steps toward the guards.

She had met them a few times before. Osaka was the other guard's name. He rushed over to Trang, tried to assess his injuries. "This guy definitely needs a medic. What happened to him?" he demanded, whipping his head around to stare at Amos.

Rooney's hand was still on his taser, eyes focused on Amos as well. Who wasn't doing a very good job of not looking dangerous. Naomi tried to pull focus away from him. "This little shit attacked me," she claimed.

Rooney's gaze swung back to her. She tried to pump fear and outrage into her gaze. "He's been harassing me for weeks. Came up on me while I was working, tried to get fresh," she lied, hoping she could make up the story fast enough to convince everyone. "He didn't know Amos was with me, he was working inside the wall there."

Trang groaned. He sounded a little outraged, but didn't say anything. Maybe he couldn't. "He's bad, Rooney," Osaka said, "Medical better get here quick."

Everyone's heads whipped around when three more buckers came flying up from the other side. They hastily stopped their momentum on the wall when they saw the security team. Amos squared his shoulders and bared his teeth at them, but said nothing.

Still clutching his arm, the man from earlier started a whiny complaint as soon as he processed the implications of the security team's presence. "Thank god you're here," he said to Rooney, waving his friends back, "this guy's a fucking maniac." He was nodding toward Amos. "He beat the shit out of us for no reason."

"And so you went and got some friends to return the favor," Rooney said, the disgust of a jaded lawman evident in his voice. "Instead of calling Security."

The young bucker shrugged, arms wide. "Didn't think we needed to bother you."

Rooney ran a hand over his face, sighing. "I get that you assholes like to fight. But you cross a line when you start hassling women, especially the Chief Engineer."

The Belter looked confused, turning to his friends, then Naomi. She gave him a glare. "Didn't do nothing like that, ses be lying."

Naomi had to jump all over that if she wanted to be believed. "Oh no? Do you need me to repeat some of the things you said? Maybe in English this time so they can all understand?"

The boy had enough decency to color a little; thank god for that grain of truth in her story. She wondered if he had even known she was present when they started that fight.

Rooney grunted. "I'm gonna ask you all to come down to the Security office with me, sort this out." He looked over at Amos, who was still silently glowering. "You did a lot of damage here. Can't just let that slide without a chat, at least."

Naomi straightened up, took a loud breath. Time to pull rank. "We're not finished with our work on the crane, though. The ship's not going anywhere until this gets done. Cap's not going to appreciate a delay."

Rooney glanced at his partner. "Of course, Ms. Nagata. You two can come down and give your statements once you're done." He turned to the outraged buckers. "You shitheads are coming with us. We'll meet up with Medical on the way up." In zero g, it wasn't really a health hazard for them to gently push Trang ahead of them as they moved down the hall. Rooney looked back just before they turned the corner. "And Ms. Nagata?" he called. "I'm holding you personally responsible for that one," he said, pointing to Amos, still glowering at their backs. "Make sure he comes down and makes his statement. And don't let me hear anyone came after these guys." Then he was gone.

Naomi pushed out a breath. At least she had stopped Amos from being thrown directly into the brig.  
"You lied for me," Amos said softly. He sounded touched.

Naomi made an exasperated noise. "Well, you were only in that situation because of me." She was chilled by his violence, but he was still her friend. "You took that way too far, Amos. What the hell was that?"

"Why are you asking me? They started it."

"Pretty sure I heard you throw the first punch."

Amos shrugged. "They were working themselves up to it. Figured I'd shut 'em down quick."

"Amos, you almost killed that guy. What were you thinking?"

He pondered for a moment. "I'm not really that great at coming up with solutions that aren't violent. I'm good at hurting people. This way, he won't mess with us again."

Naomi sighed. "It's a miracle they're not locking you up right now," she said. "And I need you right here, helping me keep this bucket working. You're good at more than just hurting people," she finished softly, looking him intently in the eyes. She wondered if he actually knew that about himself.

She saw the tension run out of Amos after she said it. He blinked back at her, soft eyes making him look younger than his years.

"The next time something like that happens, you wait for me to try to find a different solution first, ok?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Episode Five: Back to the Butcher**

Naomi regained consciousness in stages. Every joint in her body ached, even though she was weightless. She felt like she had been punched hard in both eye sockets. Alex must have burned at close to the human limit to escape the wreckage of the _Donnager._ Then her hearing came back; someone was moaning in pain. She opened her eyes slowly. The sound was coming from the blurry figure in the crash couch to her left. She struggled to focus her abused eyeballs. It was Amos; grimacing and writhing, eyes still closed. She shook her head to clear the spots from her vision. They didn't go anywhere. She realized the spots were drops of blood in the air. Amos's blood. A white spur of bone protruded from his lower leg; the hard burn must have dislodged the break he sustained during their escape and punctured the skin.

"Amos," she called, already undoing her restraints. He didn't respond. "Alex," she tried next, raising her voice as she pushed off in Amos's direction. Even if everyone else was still out, Alex would be up, probably just coming down from the juice that had allowed him to operate the ship at 12 g's.

The Martian's groggy drawl came from the deck above. "Naomi, you up?"

"Amos is bleeding," she responded, "and his leg is broken. Can you find a first aid kit or something?" She turned to her friend, searching his neck for a pulse. That was part of a medical assessment, right? The throbbing felt strong. "Amos," she repeated, tapping his cheek lightly.

His eyes opened, focused on her, then screwed shut again. "Ach, my leg!" he bellowed out. Maybe it would have been kinder to let him stay unconscious a bit longer.

Naomi rubbed his shoulder in what she hoped was a soothing gesture. "Alex is getting a medkit. Everything's going to be fine in a minute. We got away safe."

"For now," Amos said through gritted teeth. He opened his eyes again and looked down at his wound. "Fuck me!"

Naomi crouched down near his leg. She wasn't trained for this. She wondered where Shed was and then felt a stab in her chest.

"Look who's up," she heard Amos call out. "You get enough sleep, princess?"

Noami looked up; Holden had finally regained consciousness, though his eyes were barely focused and he swayed in his magboots. "Come over here and help me," Naomi barked.

Holden stumbled over, face looking queasy as he watched Naomi peel fabric away from the wound in Amos's leg. His tibia stuck out at a nauseating angle. Amos's intermittent grunts of pain were not helping her concentrate.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Holden queried uselessly, making no move to take charge of the situation himself.

"I fix ships, not people."

"Ah! dammit!" Amos cried through teeth gritted in pain.

"Just… hold him still," Naomi directed to Holden. Someone had to start taking action. The first step had to be getting that bone back where it belonged. She stepped around to Amos's foot, did her best to eyeball what direction to pull to set the tibia back in place.

Holden grabbed a glove floating nearby, putting it between Amos's teeth. Then he braced himself against the man's upper body. Naomi tried not to drag the moment out. She took a hold of Amos's boot and pulled. There was a sickening crunch, Amos screamed, and the protruding bone disappeared. Naomi hoped it went into the right place. Amos wasn't still screaming, at least. They all took a moment to catch their breaths.

"Where's Alex?" Holden asked.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," the pilot called, carrying a brace and several syringes. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Amos' legs. "Oh, Jesus." His voice was still thick from the array of drugs he had been on.

"Oh, patch him up," Holden ordered.

"I'm not Shed, I don't know what I'm doing!"

"Neither did he," Amos pointed out.

"Just give him the shot." Naomi said.

"Which one do I use first, the antiseptic or the-"

He was interrupted as Amos grabbed the painkiller out of Alex's hand himself and stabbed it into his own thigh. He exhaled a long sigh in almost immediate relief.

"Well that solves that," Holden muttered.

Naomi sprayed antiseptic over Amos' wound as the mechanic relaxed into a numbed exhaustion. Then she fit the fancy Martian brace over his leg, and watched in amazement as it spread a form-fitting cast over the area. Way better stuff than anything Belters had access to. "Good as new," she said, patting her friend's knee comfortingly.

"Whatever you say, boss," he murmured.

"What's our status?" Holden asked, moving on to the next step in the crisis.

Naomi kept her eyes on Amos as Alex started rattling off facts about their new ride. She pressed the back of her fingers to one cheek, then the other. His skin felt a bit clammy, but probably not more than was to be expected after the intense physiological stress he just went through. He smiled weakly in response to her mothering concern.

She was making sure he was ok, but her fingers lingered just a touch longer than necessary. She was proud of him, too. Amos had broken his leg carrying Alex onto that ship, saving the very same man he had been threatening to kill just hours before. He could be a very good man when it came down to it, and she hoped he knew it. But she couldn't say anything like that, not with the others standing right there. She anchored herself in the zero g holding onto Amos' chair, using the casual touch of her arm against his to try to convey what words could not.

"…right now, we're just a tumbleweedin' piece of scrap metal," Alex concluded.

"So as far as we know," Amos said, "nobody made it off the _Donnager._ "

"Correct," Alex said.

"And no one knows that we're alive."

"That's right."

Amos looked at the console on the other side of the ops deck. "Then who just sent us a message?"

They all turned, noticed the low beep and flashing light of an incoming message.

Fred Johnson. Of the O.P.A. What did it mean that he had been able to track them, send a tightbeam right at their dark, 'tumbleweeding' corvette?

"He offered us help," Holden said, gearing up to make his case for their next move. "We have to go somewhere."

"Well, I say we fly to the nearest Mars base and turn ourselves in," Alex suggested.

"That's an excellent idea," Amos said evenly, feeling better enough at least to stand. "We'll just roll up in a stolen Mickey corvette," Naomi turned to him, realized he was being sarcastic, "with a dead Martian in the trunk. I'm sure they'll roll out the red carpet."

"Hey, smartass," Alex interrupted, "a lot of good Martians died saving our lives so we get the truth out."

Amos looked too exhausted to do more than just make an incredulous face at him.

"The comms on the _Donnager_ were jammed during the attack," Holden informed them. "The only Martians who are going to believe us are dead."

"So let's just burn hard to Ceres," Amos said, directing the suggestion at Naomi, "and we'll take our chances."

"No port is going to let us dock with our transponder off. And the minute we turned it on, every Martian ship in the system will know it." Holden was getting that condescending tone again, but at least he was actually consulting with the rest of them, and not just issuing orders or shooting off a half-cocked message to Johnson himself. "Think about it. We're the only survivors from the _Canterbury,_ and the _Donnager_. We look like terrorists. No one's gonna believe our story. I wouldn't believe us. Fred Johnson just offered us a lifeline. I say we take it."

Naomi finally spoke. "We're not going to Tycho," she said with heat. The O.P.A. was not any less shitty of an option.

Holden just raised his eyebrows. "Got any other ideas?" He stepped closer to her, to better engage. Amos inexplicably turned away, started pacing.

"You can't trust Fred Johnson," Naomi pointed out, turning to Alex for support. Why didn't they see that was a self-evident fact? "We all know what he's capable of."

"That was like ten years ago. People change," Holden said, ever the optimist. "The Martians said you were O.P.A."

She waited for him to say where he was going with that accusation, but he just let it hang there. "Stop talking about stuff that you know nothing about," she growled at him, "because…" then she stopped herself. She was not going into anything close to this topic, not with anyone, and definitely not with everyone standing around and her on the defensive. She took a moment to get focused on the issue at hand again. "I vote no," she said with finality.

Holden looked at Alex, who deliberated for a minute. "Holden's got a point," he finally said. Unbelievable. "We've gotta go somewhere," he said pointedly to Naomi.

Everyone turned and looked at Amos, who was staring at the floor. What was he waiting for?

"Amos," Naomi said, a note of fear slipping out in her tone. Did he think she was wrong too? Was he not going to trust her this time?

He looked her in the eye for a long moment. "I'm with you, boss," he said evenly.

"Then it's two against two," she said quickly, pushing strength back into her voice. "We're not going anywhere." She stared Holden down as she said it, then turned and left the deck.

Naomi was finally alone.

A control panel lit up on the wall as she walked past, displaying a variety of readouts on the ship's current operations. "You know I'm an engineer," she said in surprise to the ship's interface. "Show me drive diagnostics on core levels." The screen dutifully changed to a beautiful, detailed display of the four drive cores, all the numbers and scrolling readouts she could ever need in one easy-to-understand graphic set. All that info would have taken her fifteen minutes to aggregate from the _Cant_ 's ancient systems, and here it was all readable at a glance.

"Life support," she commanded, a note of challenge in her voice. The screen changed to a set of rolling graphs covering all essential air components, water levels, and recycler statuses. Areas of sub-optimal performance were highlighted helpfully in green, suggested solutions already provided and ready to be initiated at the touch of a button. Naomi turned her head in annoyance. Maliciously, she yanked at a tear in the sleek, expensive coating on the bulkhead beside the terminal.

"What's going on?" Amos asked as he approached from down the hallway. He must be coming to check in with her after their odd moment on the ops deck. Remembering her insecurity only added to the well of irritation inside of her.

"Oh, I don't know," she began defensively, "ask the ship. It seems to know everything," she growled at the ceiling.

"It sure beats the buckets that we've been on in the past," Amos said with a laugh in his voice.

"There's nothing to fix," she said in frustration. _And who am I without that?_

"You fixed my leg," he pointed out soothingly. She tried to stay upset, but she felt the tension draining away. The warmth in his voice was also reassuring her that they were solid, that he was still on her side.

"Why not go to Tycho, if we've got nowhere else to go." And there it was. He really didn't agree with her on this one. But the sting of it was out.

"It's a long story," she sighed, still not willing to agree to the plan.

Amos still wore a smile, but he exhaled in frustration, refusing to give up. "I always back your play because you always do the right thing. But usually I can figure out why."

"It's not the place, it's the man," Naomi clarified.

"Fred Johnson?" Amos asked with a note of surprise. "You know him?"

"I've known guys like him," she said with disgust, "guys with causes. Causes that get people killed." Getting involved with that again was the very last thing in the solar system she ever wanted to do.

"So where should we go?" he asked gently. The same thing Holden had said. But when Amos asked it, with that puppydog 'I'm depending on you for a solution' face of his, she couldn't keep up her resistance any longer. She couldn't withhold their only viable choice just because she was terrified, just because she wanted to keep running forever.

She looked away as she decided. She could barely make herself form the words, but she knew Amos wouldn't act unless she made it crystal clear. It was a heroic effort not to cry as she said it, oceans of fear, pain, and regret that she refused to show to anyone looming behind her eyes. "Tell them to do it," she told the floor.

If he were another man, he would have folded her into his arms at that moment. If she were another woman, she would have welcomed the soothing touch of another person recognizing her pain, taking the edge away with their acceptance and support. But he was Amos and couldn't offer things like that, and she was Naomi and couldn't accept. She stalked away.

Naomi did the delicate work numbly, following Johnson's instructions for changing the ship's transponder as all three of her crewmates crowded around tensely. No pressure, of course. Amos was in his usual place at her shoulder, waiting to see if she needed anything, only about six inches closer than normal. Alex was off to her side, which left Jim Holden right in front of her face, head folded over the console and stroking his chin nervously. "Have you done this before?" he asked unhelpfully.

"Yeah, about once a week," she breathed with sarcasm, letting him know he was still blowing the 'inspire confidence and support' aspect of leadership.

"Well you're doing great," he added quickly, recovering with a warm look that Naomi tried, and failed, to brush off. Something in his voice soothed her more deeply than she wanted to accept. She was _not_ starting to like him. She distracted herself by beginning to lecture him on exactly how dangerous what she was doing could be. "Transponders are designed not to be tampered with. Civilian models fuse themselves into lumps of molten graphene if they get messed with." She turned to look at everyone. "We could be a supernova a few seconds from now."

"Well we won't have to worry about Tycho," Holden deadpanned, "will we."

Naomi was really not sure if that was supposed to be a joke, or if he was rubbing it in that she had lost that fight. She turned back to her work, and Holden screwed up his face uncomfortably. A bad joke, then. She slid the data card back in. So far so good, no explosion. "We need to give the ship a new name to complete the override," she said, turning to the crew for ideas.

"Screamin' Firehawk," Alex called out excitedly.

"Yeah, let's advertise that we're a gunship," Holden responded.

"Flyin' Alamo," the Martian tried. Everyone just scoffed at him.

"Give me something, please," Naomi said tiredly, turning to Holden for an executive decision. She hated everything about this plan and just wanted it to be over as quickly as possible.

"Rocinante."

Naomi did not recognize the reference, got ready ask for something better as the room fell silent.

Holden tried to sell his idea. "It's Spanish for-"

"Workhorse," Amos supplied unexpectedly. Naomi turned to look at him, impressed. "I like it." His face was soft and introspective. "I knew a lady named Rocinante. She was good to me."

Naomi could only begin to speculate what kind of woman would have a name like that. "Whatever. Punch it."

Holden keyed it in, then hesitated. No one wanted to press 'initiate' and find out if Johnson's instructions would save them, or destroy them. Naomi tapped it, and they all watched the loading bar in suspense.

The ship's new name appeared in cheerful white letters. Holden's face broke into a grin like the sun coming out from behind clouds, and that smile was all for Naomi. She couldn't help but smile back.

Everyone went their separate ways after they were prepped for their new course. All Naomi wanted to do was find a bunk and lay down, finally get a little goddamned privacy. It felt like it had been ages since she had been alone with her thoughts. She tried to remember when the last time was that she had even slept. Did passing out from oxygen deprivation count?

But as she lay there in that dark Martian bunk, she found that sleep was not forthcoming. They were physically safe, for the moment, with no immediate threats to their survival. They had a few days in which to recover as they burned to Tycho station. But what would giving themselves over to the O.P.A. do for them? Naomi just wanted things back how they were. No politics, no crises, just endless hard work keeping her from thinking too hard. And this new ship couldn't even give her that.

She rolled over. She found herself wondering what the others were doing, then wanted to laugh. She finally got away from those three, and she already wanted to check on them? Maybe going through stressful times did bring people together… Before she could decide to get up and look for company, she was asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Episode 6: Rock Bottom**

Holden had called the rest of the crew in to the galley after his meeting with Fred Johnson, told them the deal he had made. He was actually considering taking a job from the O.P.A. The ship that got them into this whole mess, the _Scopuli,_ was apparently one of theirs. She understood Holden didn't want to let the mystery go, that he needed to keep tracking down whoever blew up the _Cant._ But he still had no idea, really, what they were dealing with. "How do you know what's waiting at those coordinates?" Naomi asked him.

"I don't."

Amos looked up from the rifle he had set on the table, backing up Naomi's position with a glare at Holden.

"Neither does Fred Johnson," Naomi continued. "And when the felotas hit the fan, he will wipe his hands clean. That's assuming it's not a set-up in the first place."

"Why would he lie about the _Scopuli?_ Get himself tangled up in this mess?" Holden countered. He was hell-bent on seeing this through, regardless of the risk it might pose to him.

"You're out of your ever-loving mind if you think you can trust that guy," Alex chimed in.

"Look. I only committed myself," Holden said defensively. "Fred Johnson offered to crew me up. You guys will be safe on Tycho until all of this blows over, then you can go back to your lives."

There he went, making his unilateral decisions again, cutting them all out. Even though she did not want to go on this mission, Naomi felt a sharp sting of betrayal stab at her chest. After saving their lives on the _Donnager,_ now he was going to leave them behind, just like that.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You're using his crew?" Alex said. "How do you know he's not going to space you the second you get out there?"

Holden turned to Naomi. "Because you're gonna rig the _Roci_ so it only responds to my commands."

Am I? she thought.

"For God's sake." Alex turned away, clearly unconvinced.

Amos just sat there, silently cleaning the now disassembled rifle.

"Look. I don't need to trust Fred Johnson," Holden continued on. "We both have a gun to each others' heads."

Clearly, he had decided what he was doing next. Naomi's voice was soft. "So, what is this?" she paused. "Goodbye?"

Holden gave a wobbly nod, face screwed up with regret, sympathy, and determination.

Alex turned back to the table. "Nah. All that's waitin' out there for you is more trouble. More death. Why are you so hell-bent, Holden?"

"Because this is my fault."

Amos whipped his head up, suddenly interested. Naomi's chest went tight. "What is?" the big man said intently.

Holden looked him right in the eyes. "I logged the distress call on the _Cant_."

Amos glared at him for a moment, processing. Naomi could see the muscles in his shoulders tightening in anger. "Amos," she said lowly, like she had so many times before. The fact that the gun under his hand was disassembled did very little to ease her growing fear of what was coming next.

He ignored her completely, continued staring Holden down. "Glad we cleared this up," he growled, his tone implying "this" wasn't even close to over.

Shit. Images of the things she had seen Amos do in the past flashed across her vision. Fists flailing, gurgling screams. She did not want to see Holden's face in ruins like that.

Naomi did the only thing she could think of to avert the crisis. She stood up a little straighter, spoke in calm, measured tones. "I knew."

Amos swiveled his head around, looked up at her in shock.

"Holden did the right thing." She just had to stay in charge, let Amos know the right play had been made. He'd fall in line behind her like he always did.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked her instead, betrayal plain in his face.

She hadn't expected the question. "I don't know," she said flippantly, unable to express the truth in a way that wouldn't hurt him more.

"You were afraid of me," he said, seeing it anyway. Seeing the way she really saw him, maybe for the first time. The monster she had to keep under control.

They all let it hang there. Everyone held their breath, watching the two of them cracking apart.

Amos looked down, like he'd lost something, then got up silently and walked out of the room.

At least there was more work for her. Naomi had no clue what to do about Amos, settled for giving him space while she dove into the _Rocinante's_ systems, learning more of the ship's secrets as she wove in her new program. Nothing vital to her operations was going to be touched by anyone but herself, or Jim Holden. He could not be swayed away from his foolhardy plan to work for the O.P.A.; but Naomi was doing everything she could to ensure the radical organization couldn't have them. She wasn't sure if she meant the ship, Holden, or herself, but whichever way, it felt good.

As Johnson's assigned crew boarded the _Rocinante,_ prepping for the mission and assembling its disguise as a gas freighter, Naomi was overcome with a surge of primal protectiveness, like a mother standing in front of her young. She glared at each intruder in turn. "You alright?" Holden asked her, stepping up close.

Naomi clenched her jaw and nodded, knowing her face looked absolutely sick with anxiety.

"Relax. You rigged the failsafe, right?"

She nodded again. "They try to access any areas that they shouldn't," she said, voice getting louder with each word, "and the _Roci's_ core will self-destruct." She looked menacingly around at the strangers on her ship.

Holden chuckled like she was being cute. She continued to glare at him. "I'm confident you got us covered," he said. "You feeling confident?"

She tried.

"Come on," he said conspiratorially, leaning in. "Let's let them do their thing, and we'll go get a drink in the crew lounge."

She made a dismissive sound, shook her head 'no,' but felt herself starting to smile. Something about talking to Holden was making it easier for her to relax, lately. And she desperately needed to start letting some of this tension go.

"You sure? I could use a drink," he said sincerely. "We'll charge it to Fred's tab," he offered.

Now that would make it worth it.

Naomi, Alex, and Amos sat around the faux-wood dining table in one of the suites Fred Johnson had provided for them during their stay on Tycho station. Holden was off somewhere else, prepping for his mission no doubt. After sharing a few drinks the other night, her attitude toward him had softened even more. She actually felt like she was going to miss the guy.

Naomi picked at the remnants of her sashimi take-out. The Butcher had turned out to be a very generous host. Posh accommodations, expensive meals, but not one of the survivors of the _Canterbury_ looked like they were enjoying it. The luxury and calm were just as disorienting to Naomi as the chaos they had just lived through. This didn't feel like her real life either. And yet Fred Johnson had promised they could stay here until this trial of his was held, whenever that would be.

Naomi looked up at Alex, watched him chew slowly, staring off at nothing with a faint scowl. She hoped he wasn't still upset about the way Holden's secret had come out. No one had mentioned it again, and she certainly wasn't going to be the one to reopen the topic. She glanced over at Amos. He was still shoveling rice into his mouth, eyes on his food. He appeared to be in his default emotional state, just existing. Except that he had barely spoken to her since they left the _Roci,_ barely even looked at her. There was nothing default about that. Naomi looked down at her plate, let out her breath much more loudly than she had intended.

Alex looked up, as if she had started a conversation with the sound. "I don't like the idea of a buncha O.P.A. yahoos flyin' around in the _Roci_."

Naomi nodded in sympathy. "We didn't have her for long, but I got pretty attached, too."

"She's still ours, if ya ask me. Legitimate salvage from the wreck of the _Donnager_."

"And yet here we are, letting Holden fly away with her, risking his neck without a care for the consequences. Again." Naomi regretted the last word as soon as she said it.

"While we sit here, in the lap of luxury," Alex said, irony in his voice.

"Safe and sound."

"No one trying to blow us up, or threatening torture, nothin' to worry about at all."

"Not yet," Naomi said glumly. She could not summon much optimism.

"Look around," Alex consoled her. "Posh rooms like this, shows how valuable Fred thinks we are. This ain't how you treat a refugee, or a suspected terrorist. I gotta believe he means it when he says we're gonna be his star witnesses."

It still made Naomi uneasy. Just because someone in the O.P.A. thought you were useful, didn't mean they were always going to treat you well. "Until the facts change. The Butcher says he wants a trial, but he doesn't even know who to accuse yet. How long will the handouts last, if Holden's investigation doesn't go anywhere? And what happens to us if it does, but it turns out the truth isn't politically convenient for the O.P.A.?"

Alex sat back, chewed on that for a while. "We could go back to ice haulin'," he tossed out. He didn't sound like he found the thought very appealing.

It had been a perfectly decent life, before all this. But something deep in Naomi's gut twisted at the idea of walking away from everything and signing up for one more long haul. She glanced over at Amos, who hadn't weighed in. He sat with his elbows on the table, arms folded. He was listening to the conversation, but his face was still that blank mask. Any other person would have felt pressured to speak when she made eye contact. Amos just looked back at her coolly, didn't move a muscle. It wasn't hostile; he just wasn't sharing.

"The _Roci_ is still ours," she said, turning back to Alex. "No one's getting around the programs I installed. Either one of us is in command, or the whole ship blows." It was an odd jump in the conversation, but Alex just nodded slowly.

"It's not the smart move, what Holden's doin'," Alex said slowly, staring off over her shoulder again. "Guess he's just got those mystery ships stuck in his craw."

"He feels responsible," Naomi said, feeling like she was walking on thin ice again. Words started rushing out of her, guiding the topic away from the distress call. "He always feels responsible. So he needs something to do. And the crazy thing about him is, he always seems to think there's actually something he can do." She was a little surprised with her own insight into the man. But they had been shipping together a long time now. "He tries to run away from it. But he always feels like he should save people. And he's foolish enough to think that he can." It was why she tried to keep her distance from him, and lately why she just couldn't.

Amos shifted, reacting somehow to her words. Naomi didn't look at him.

Alex picked at the last bites on his plate. "It would feel pretty good to be there, when he tracks down those bastards that blew the _Cant,_ " he said.

Naomi sat back, blew out a breath. Was that what they were talking each other into right now?

"I'll never get a chance at a ship like the _Roci_ again," he continued, almost like he was just talking to himself. "She is one beautiful girl."

Naomi looked at Amos again. Brows furrowed, he seemed deep in thought too. He didn't look up at her.

She turned back to Alex. "So what, now you're good with running errands for the O.P.A.?"

"Well, I'm starting to reckon I'll feel a might more comfortable behind the helm of the _Rocinante,_ after those points you just brought up. You'd rather sit tight on an O.P.A.-controlled station, rely on them for your air, that's up to you."

It was still a rock and a hard place, then. But she was coming around. She could feel the anxiety creeping up already, just sitting here. "No telling when Fred Johnson's goodwill could run out," she agreed. "Better to be on a state-of-the-art gunship when it happens." She paused, then added: "Even if that means serving under a captain who goes looking for trouble any chance he can get?"

Alex shook his head with a smile. "Welp, I know I can trust Holden to always at least be tryin' to do the right thing. Not sure I can say that for any government, legitimate or not, right now."

Naomi's face twisted into a pained smile. "So we're going to be outlaws?"

"I don't think anyone's gonna offer up a better choice," said the man who had only recently recommended they turn themselves in to the Martian Navy. Maybe their little group was finally starting to all see things the same way. Naomi looked at Amos again.

"I'm good with outlaws," he shrugged.

Naomi heaved one more sigh. "So we go back to Fred Johnson, get the same deal he's giving Holden. Leave our testimony and go find his missing ship."

Alex stood, wiping his mouth before throwing the napkin on the table. "I'm gonna go take care of that right now. Can't stand to be off my ship one minute longer than I have to be."

Naomi smiled at him as he walked out, as amused by his attachment to the _Roci_ as Holden had been by hers. Her smile faded when the door shut behind him. Now there was no one left but her and Amos, with so much still unresolved between them.

She hated how it felt; insecurity and regrets swirling in her gut. He had been a comforting presence at her back for so long, and she had taken his loyalty, trust and admiration for granted. She felt his withdrawal from her like a hole in her side. She had to fix this somehow.

Naomi turned back to him. "So, you're coming too?" she started, with a tentative smile.

"Well, a brand-new ship like the _Roci_ don't seem to need much from a grease monkey like me." Naomi tried to think of something encouraging to say, but Amos kept talking. "But with the luck that we have, there might be a few things you need help breaking. Like maybe some faces." He looked pointedly at her. "That's what I'm good at, right?"

She felt like he had punched her in the gut, even though his voice was neutral when he said it. She had known him long enough to be able to tell when he was having feelings, usually before he did. It had hurt him to see how much she feared what he was capable of; and she had no clue how to help the situation now. "It's… one of your skills," she tried to deflect with a joke, "but that's not why I'm happy you're staying with us."

"You sure you're happy about that? Now that you're such good buddies with Jim Holden."

She ignored the jealous undertone of the statement; she still had to make sure everyone was safe, first. "You're not going to… do anything to him, are you?"

Amos sat back, folded his arms over his chest and studied her face for a moment. "Nah. Turns out he did the right thing, right?"

He was repeating her words back to her, but not with his usual calm agreement. "Do you really believe that? You seem pretty upset."

"No, I'm not," he said, body language still bristling.

"Ok. Then what is this?"

"What's what?"

Naomi made a frustrated noise. "Something's wrong between us." She couldn't help him get over it if he wasn't even going to acknowledge that.

Amos just looked at her in silence. After a moment, Naomi stood up, started cleaning up the remnants of their meal. If he wasn't going to talk, there was nothing she could do.

"You never kept anything from me before."

Not that you knew of, she thought. She set the empty cartons down. How could she explain herself without hurting his feelings worse? "I just wanted to make sure we all focused on surviving the next crisis, before we worried about who to blame."

"Yeah."

She hadn't addressed his real problem. "You know how you get, Amos. I just thought-"

"That you couldn't trust me." He leaned forward, looked at her intently. "When have I ever not trusted you, Naomi? I've always listened to you. After everything we've been through, how could you still be afraid of me?" The hurt was there in his eyes again, but this time there was anger, too.

Naomi didn't know how to respond. If that was the heart of the problem, there was no easy fix. She had always suspected Amos would only respect someone he couldn't shake, couldn't shock. She was reminded of that moment, early on in their relationship, when she felt like she was staring down a wild animal. And now he had finally seen the panic behind her eyes. She still couldn't think of an answer that wouldn't confirm every bad thing he ever thought about himself.

"Yeah." He stood up suddenly. "I'll see you later."

She watched him leave, couldn't bring herself to call him back.

The pre-launch checklist for the _Rocinante_ was much shorter than one Naomi was accustomed to working her way through on the _Canterbury._ The Martian warship ran through most of the standard diagnostics by itself, and it was entirely absent any ancient, unreliable parts or jerry-rigged temporary solutions that she had to check on personally. If the _Roci_ had any tricky quirks, Naomi hadn't discovered them yet. It was the most pleasant and easy launch preparation she'd ever been through, but she was a ball of emotions anyway. She was ecstatic to claim possession of this beautiful ship again. She was happy to not be left behind, and terrified of what they were getting themselves into next. She also found she was excited to surprise Jim Holden when he came on board. She could tell by the way he spoke to her that he didn't want to put any pressure on, but he had still been hoping she, and the other crew, would change their minds.

She smiled to Alex, standing next to her on the ops deck, when she heard Holden's boots clanging up the ladder. On the trip to Tycho she had already memorized what each of their tiny crew sounded like, moving around their new home. She turned to him dramatically when he came up. "You're late," she chided.

"What is this?" Holden asked, looking dumbfounded.

"Oh, spare us the speech," she said, the look on his face warming her heart.

"Ship's ready," Alex said, looking up from the terminal he had been checking. "Are you?"

"I guess we lost Amos," Holden observed.

"Oh, he'll be here in a sec," Naomi said, forcing her voice to stay warm. She really was happy he was coming, even though nothing felt resolved between them. And the thought of him painting the ship's new name on the hull outside right now filled her with pride.

"OK," Holden said, face twisting up in a smile. "I guess I'll go put on some coffee."

Alex was warming up the engines when Amos finally came up the ladder from the airlock, ready to secure himself for the rapid gravity shifts the ship would undergo as they detached from Tycho and got enough distance to initiate their burn toward the mysterious asteroid. He sat down in the crash couch next to Naomi and started to strap in. He didn't look at her.

Naomi closed her eyes, gathering herself to try again to reach out, repair the void that was starting to gape between them. She looked over to him. "I'm sorry," she offered with a sad smile. She had realized she didn't even apologize in their last conversation.

Amos looked up at her, face frozen in something that might have been deep thought, or just an attempt to mirror her expression, and said nothing. Holden came up the stairs with two bulbs of coffee, and Amos looked away, resumed buckling.

Holden handed her the warm drink with a dazzling smile that almost made up for the sinking feeling Amos's brush-off had given her. He was here, but was he ready to really be a part of the crew?

Naomi held her breath as their captain held out his peace offering to Amos. The two shared a long, inscrutable look before Amos accepted it. She tried to let her tension go on the exhale. He had said he was going to let Holden off the hook; she needed to take him at his word. Naomi realized she was quite ready to be done feeling responsible for Amos Burton. If there were any problem lingering between those two, she promised herself she was going to let them work it out between themselves.


	8. Chapter 8

About a year ago, Naomi had started a new tradition for herself. When the _Cant_ was docked at Ceres, just once between every run, she went out drinking with some people from the crew. She'd wait until her maintenance and upgrade projects were running smoothly, or until the company's stingy budget ran out, and then she would give herself a night off.

She had resisted forming connections with anyone in the crew for a long time. Then Amos' mostly-silent presence somehow worked his way into her heart, and now she found she had a small emotional budget for socializing. The relationships were superficial, of course, but most of the 'lifers' on ships like the _Cant_ shared a similar perspective. You don't want to dig around in my past; don't bother trying to find the real me; how about another drink? Naomi's little circle of friends shared laughs, bottles, and not a lot else.

This time, she was meeting up with them at a neon-light drenched club with thumping dance music up front, and a little room full of Golgo tables in back. She was new to the complicated game, but starting to find that she really liked it. They had left a few of their more taciturn crewmen at the bar, Amos among them, while their main group formed one team that had been rotating around the room for the past few hours. Naomi had lost track of how many drinks she had downed as they went; everyone agreed that you threw better with the counterbalance of a glass in your other hand.

They were one of the last few tables still going. "Nice throw, gufovedi," the Belter with the bleached hair who had been staring all night called to Naomi from the other side of the table, "but I am going to destroy you this round." It had been a long time since someone had called her beautiful; Naomi tried not to react but felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. Her next throw landed just right, all but guaranteeing victory. Her team rewarded her with a fresh cocktail.

When the game was won, they all politely exchanged pleasantries with the other team. The tall blonde had eyes only for Naomi. "They call me Z," he said by way of introduction, taking her hand. "You've got a pretty good arm, been playing Golgo long?"

Naomi shook her head. The nickname was already one point against this guy, but it felt good to get a little male attention so she humored him. "Just something I've been falling into lately. You?"

He made a dismissive smirk with his wide mouth. "It's a way to pass the time. Meet new people. I'd offer to buy you a drink, but looks like your crew took care of you there. Do you dance, setara?"

Her heart jumped a little at the pet name. Why didn't she talk to boys more often, again? Naomi looked around at the emptying room, noticed that most of her friends had already trickled back to the main room. Ade caught her eye on the way out and winked. Naomi turned back to her handsome suitor. "Sure," she smiled, impulsively grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the booming noise of the dance floor. She sucked down the rest of her drink as they went; she'd never been one to enjoy dancing sober. She was just riding the electricity of the moment, happy to lay down the seriousness with which she usually approached life.

On the crowded dance floor, Z pressed in on her somewhat uncomfortably. She tried to leave a little space between them as she bounced to the rhythm, but he kept grabbing her around the waist and she didn't have a lot of room to maneuver. Someone stumbled into her, pushing her flush against the tall man's body. He ground his hips into her eagerly, putting his mouth to her ear so she could hear him over the music. "You have the finest ass on this station, setara," he said, and helped himself to a feel.

Naomi twisted away, hoping he would get the hint that he was moving too fast, and scanned the crowd for her friends. Joy and one of the pilots were dancing and laughing a few meters away. "Hey, there's my friends," she called out, barely checking to see if Z was following her. She felt a little sick, and a little dizzy, but she wasn't willing to throw in the towel just yet.

Her crewmates welcomed her with the meaningless, overblown warmth that comes with heavy intoxication. Joy pulled Naomi into a hug that turned into something halfway between dancing and simulated sex for a few beats, before breaking off with laughter. "That dress really does look great on you," Joy shouted. She had lent it to Naomi for the night. Naomi tugged the hemline down self-consciously; it was much shorter than she was used to. Naomi turned to find Z right behind her, eyebrows waggling in amusement. Naomi looked away, tried to resume dancing with her friends.

Joy seemed more interested in seducing the pilot tonight. Z kept trying to pull Naomi in close, saying things she couldn't really hear but that she understood to be pretty nasty. Her drink-addled mind tried to remember how to be assertive, slow him down a little without giving up on having fun tonight. He caught her, leaned close to her ear again. "I bet a skank like you sucks dick like an open airlock," he said and grabbed her ass again, this time curling his fingers intrusively between her legs as he did so.

Naomi shoved him away from her violently, rage making her arms shake as Belter curses poured from her mouth. Her crewmates hadn't noticed, however, so she chose to stalk off the dancefloor rather than try to engage their support. When she was halfway to the bar she risked turning her head, saw that Z was following her with a smirk. She gave him her hardest look to warn him off, but her adrenaline spiked. She needed to find more of her own people. She scanned the crowd around the main bar; unfortunately it seemed like most of the _Cant's_ crew had already called it a night. Then she spotted the familiar curve of Amos' big shoulders, hunched over the counter in the same spot she'd left him hours ago.

She pushed her way through the knots of people waiting to order drinks, squeezed herself into the tiny space between her crewman and the laughing woman perched on the neighboring barstool. Amos turned as she ran her hand over his shoulder. His eyes lit up in a sleepy smile, and he opened his arm to fold her into what little space he could share with her up against the bar. His hand rested comfortably on the small of her back. The touch barely registered with all the strangers' bodies pressing in on them. He looked at least as drunk as she was, and a lot happier about it.

Her stress must have shown in her face, because his smile dropped in concern almost immediately. "What happened, boss?"

Naomi let out a sharp sigh. "Just some fucking dzhimang who can't take a fucking hint and leave me alone." She risked a look toward where she saw him last. He stood casually with a group of his friends from the Golgo game, but he was staring right at her. He blew her a kiss, then made a more lewd suggestion with his hands. She scowled and gave him the finger.

"Did he put his hands on you?" Amos asked. He swiveled on the stool and followed her gaze, trying to spot the guy.

Naomi turned her back deliberately. She considered reaching over, doing something intimate to make it look like Amos was her boyfriend, but that seemed like a cheap way out. The guy had insulted her dignity, and she did not want to send the message that that wasn't ok solely because she was someone else's property.

"Want me to kick his ass?" Amos offered.

She did. She knew there was probably a more enlightened course of action, but her angry, intoxicated mind couldn't think of one. It would be so satisfying to watch Amos' fist land on his face. "I should probably just leave."

"Guy like that's gonna follow you out," Amos observed.

He was right. That knot of anger in her gut was only getting tighter.

"You should probably let me kick his ass."

"Yeah," she said before she could think any harder about it, "I think you're right."

Amos' smile lit up like it she had just given him a present. "That blonde guy?" he asked, nodding his head in the right direction.

"How did you know?"

"Because he just did something truly disgusting in your direction. I'm going to enjoy teaching this guy a few things."

Naomi felt a pang of some distant emotion, through her anger and the synthetic vodka buzz. Wasn't she supposed to be keeping Amos out of trouble? She ignored the thought. She was just using all the tools she had on hand to solve her problem. He had volunteered, anyway. He was a grown man entitled to make his own choices.

"You're not going to like the first part of my plan," Amos said. "We gotta get this guy away from his buddies. I'm sure they're all shitheads, but I bet you'd prefer to minimize the collateral damage."

Naomi nodded her agreement.

"So I need you to go act like you changed your mind about him, and bring him back into the Golgo room. I'll be waiting there."

Yeah, that sounded like the last thing she wanted to do. And yet the thought tickled something dark and vindictive in her. Naomi looked over at the darkened hallway leading to the back room. "How do you know it's empty?"

Amos shrugged. "Lights're out. Don't worry, I'll scare off anyone that's still back there."

Naomi almost shuddered. She had no doubt the man beside her could do that, easily.

Amos gave her a level look. "You don't have to do this."

Naomi grabbed the drink in front of him, took a long pull off of it. Then she thrust herself back into the crowd, before the nagging voice in the back of her mind could catch up.

The next jolt of adrenaline felt almost pleasant. Whatever the drink in her hand was, it was strong. She was ready to do this. She put a little sway in her hips when she caught Z's eye, walked up to him with a ferocious smile.

"I knew you couldn't stay away," the asshole said into her ear, wrapping one long arm around her waist.

"Let's go somewhere a little more private," she invited, not wanting to drag this out a second longer than she had to.

"Sure thing setara, my place is just a few tube stops away."

"Not that private," she said, shaking her head with what she hoped was a saucy grin. "I want to do it right on the Golgo table."

No asshole coyo could resist a proposition like that. His grip was like iron, steering her through the crowd in front of him toward the back room. Fuck, what if she hadn't given Amos enough time to get into position? She swiveled her head around; he was nowhere to be seen.

"It's ok," Z said into her ear, "All your friends are gone. Nobody gonna see the nasty shit you about to get up to."

Naomi tried to walk slowly, exaggerating her drunkenness with a little fake stagger. It only served to give Z an excuse to hold onto her tighter as they made their way to the back. Amos had better fucking be there.

She made her way timidly down the short hallway to the back room, the lanky blonde close behind her. He tried to swing her against the wall as soon as the light felt dim, but she swiveled out of his grip with a saccharine grin. "Wait 'till no one can catch us," she beckoned, backing quickly into the Golgo room.

There were a few neon signs still lit up on the walls back here, illuminating the empty tables with dim splashes of blue and magenta. The place seemed empty; she almost missed Amos' hulk in the corner next to the door. He nodded, just as Z rushed toward her, amorous intent evident.

He almost got his hands on her again when she saw the pale skin of Amos' arms flashing through the air behind him, grabbing the taller man's shoulders and throwing him off to the side. Z staggered a few steps, a confused "What the fuck?" spitting from his lips as he turned to figure out what had just happened.

Amos popped him in the face before he got his feet back under him again. Naomi felt just about as satisfied with the moment as she thought she would. Z fell back into the edge of a heavy table, arms coming up defensively.

Amos closed in on him, blocking Naomi's view of what happened next. It looked like the belter evaded his next move, slipping a few steps away and looking at Naomi. "The fuck is this?" he barked at her.

Amos socked him in the gut, doubling him over. "When someone tells you to 'fuck off,' you should listen," he growled, then knocked him back upright with a blow to the head. "Otherwise you're just asking to run into a guy like me someday."

The blonde spit blood and then came at Amos with a swing. The two exchanged a few glancing blows before Amos got a good hold on him, maneuvering to try to take him to the ground. Naomi felt an amazing rush blooming through her limbs as she watched the scene unfolding. Amos was all deadly efficiency and coiled strength, and she was the one directing him. She realized the heady feeling was power.

"You should be more worried about your girlfriend, dzhimang," Z gasped out as they struggled, "bitch was all over me tonight, what was I supposed to do?"

That stung. The asshole was still coming away with the conclusion that this was about whose property she might be.

Amos, ever focused, used the man's distraction to twist him into a chokehold. He swiveled the flailing Belter around to face Naomi. He acted like Z hadn't even spoken. "You wanna take a shot?" he asked Naomi, offering her the man's belly.

But the vindictive rush was already souring. In its place came sobriety and nausea. What the hell were they doing back here? This wasn't like her. She shook her head.

"Suit yourself," Amos said. She closed her eyes as disgust overwhelmed her. She heard movements she assumed meant Amos was letting the guy go. But then there was a thud and a sickening popping sound. Her eyes flew open. The two men were on the floor; Z's arm stuck out at an unnatural angle and Amos was crouched over him. She was transfixed for a moment, watching his fists fly over and over. Apparently he didn't feel the "lesson" was over. She thought she might throw up.

"Amos, that's enough!" she finally choked out.

He paused, twisted on his knees to look over at her. His face was completely empty. "If you say so," he shrugged, and stood up. He didn't even look at the man on the ground.

 **Episode Seven: Windmills**

She should have expected this by now; things for their little crew were just going to keep getting more dangerous. "It's all over the feeds," Alex said. "Mars went ballistic when a Belter ship attacked the _Scipio Africanus_. So now they're patrolling every shipping lane between here and Eros."

"And we are driving a stolen Martian frigate." Amos said, statement of fact reminding everyone how bad things could get in the next few hours.

"We didn't bargain for this." Naomi gave Holden a significant look. "The only way this ship will pass for a freighter is if no one looks close enough." She felt the fear rising in her stomach as she spoke. "If anyone comes on board-"

"They can't check every ship," Holden interrupted. "They have no reason to board us."

"Once we cross that line," Alex said, tapping at a spot on the screen only a few minutes away, "there's no turning back. Everything we do is gonna be under a microscope."

"This little jaunt just got a whole lot more interesting," Amos commented. He was the only one not crowded around the screen. He had been holding himself apart from the group since they left Tycho station. Naomi was forcing herself not to care about what that could mean.

"Then we just stay on course and mind our business," Holden decided. "We're just a run of the mill gas hauler."

"I'm tired of rolling the dice," Naomi sighed.

"This whole trip is a gamble," Holden replied.

The monitors lit up with a new signal. "We just got pinged by a ranging laser," Alex clarified. "They're just givin' us a little love tap, letting us know they're watching."

"Well if that love tap turns into a target lock," Amos said intently, "we need to be ready."

"Right," Alex said, and everyone headed nervously back to their stations. Except Amos. He continued leaning casually against the railing. Naomi wanted badly to give him a hard look, tell him to go find some way to be useful, but she didn't. If he wanted to keep brooding in corners, she did not have the energy to deal with it right now.

Naomi opened a terminal at the station she had started thinking of as hers. It was jarring to feel so much adrenaline while the screen showed the threatening MCRN ship as a calm little white blip. Here was something she could fix. She scanned quickly through lines of code until she found what she was looking for. A few changes later, and the Martian vessel turned red and a warning bell sounded.

Holden came and bent over her shoulder. "What did you do?"

"This was an MCRN warship. Its systems normally recognize other Martian Navy as friendlies. Not anymore," she said proudly. "We'll know if they're coming for us now."

"How did someone as smart as you end up on the _Canterbury?_ " he asked. It was nice, how hard he had been trying to get into her good graces lately.

"I failed upwards, to the level of my incompetence," she joked back. "Same as the rest of us."

She felt him laugh silently over her shoulder. "Hey, now we're talking about me."

She smiled at that, preparing to tease him harder, when Alex's voice interrupted them. "Hey y'all, why are we broadcasting?"

"What are you talking about, nobody's broadcasting anything," Holden said, voice tight.

"Yeah, we are."

Naomi was already searching the ship's internal monitors, looking for the rogue signal. "He's right. It's a radio transmission, coming from between the hulls." She turned to Amos for help in figuring this out. "There's nothing down there but servos and conduit."

"Could be a faulty controller," he suggested.

Naomi was already ahead of him. "No, it's modulated, in code." Something was broadcasting information, on purpose. Why? "Alex," she called out, "do MCRN ships send out status updates when they handshake other vessels?" In which case, their disguise would have been worth absolutely nothing.

"Maybe?" Alex replied unhelpfully.

"Amos, check it out," Naomi ordered, then went back to analyzing the signal. Maybe she could find a way to block the transmission while he found the hardware responsible. She became aware that Amos hadn't moved, looked up in surprise. He was still staring at the diagram with its little blipping signal. "Amos," she said gently. She didn't want to push too hard while things were still off between them. She didn't want to act like things were any different, either.

He finished whatever thought he was having, then turned away. "I'm on it," he muttered as he climbed down the stairs.

Naomi blinked a few times before getting back to work. She couldn't tell what Amos had been thinking, or feeling, and that was a bad sign. She had been so used to his predictable obedience. He had always waited for her assessment of things, and seemed content to let her decide the right course of action in stressful times. Today there was an extra step in his equation. She just hoped it wasn't one that was going to make things harder than they already were.

A Martian boarding party impending, a spy on board, it was all too much. Naomi handled it the way she always did, by losing herself in the work in front of her. She didn't believe anything their prisoner had said about himself so far, but the guy did have the best plan for saving them from the MCRN, even if it was turning out to be a desperate longshot. There was no telling if they would get that operations locker open in time to find the codes that would get Mars off their backs. Amos was drilling into the back panel, preparing to cut out the magnetic seal, while Naomi did the more delicate work of wiring the backup lock to short out.

"Guys, this is taking way too long," Alex called from his position watching the Martian boarding skiff's approach.

"It's composite titanium, maybe if we had started an hour ago-"

Amos cut the spy off. "Who said that you could talk?" he said with a pointed stare at the man.

"I did," Holden interjected irritably.

"Just keep at it," Naomi ordered. Once again these boys were letting their little dominance squabbles slow them down.

"That's not going to help, either," their little naysayer continued. Maybe they should have let Amos go shut him up again. He was killing the calm of her concentration. "You kill the power to the magnetic seal, the backup in that locker is gonna kick in, and keep it shut."

"That's why I'm going to kill the power source first, so that the backup doesn't trigger," she growled.

"That's a good idea, but there's not enough time."

"You underestimate my ability to break things," she shot back at him. Then she heard Amos stamping away behind her. "Where are you going?" she asked irritably, spinning around to catch his eye.

He met her gaze levelly. "I'm gonna go prep for Plan B."

"What's Plan B?" Holden asked, tone reminding everyone he was the only one that was supposed to be authorizing plans.

"To get down to that airlock and make sure nobody boards us," he explained, then clattered down the ladder.

Holden rolled his eyes. "Alex? Hold them off as long as you can," he ordered. "Get us those damn codes," he said to Naomi, then stomped down after Amos.

Naomi chose to ignore her growing frustration and got back to work. Sure, she could do it all herself, while the boys chased each other around, no problem. She didn't have time to be angry about Amos choosing the worst possible moment to develop a mind of his own.

Alex was clumsier with the drill than Amos. The Martian skiff was preparing to board. Their captain was nowhere to be seen.

"Got any ideas for revising this plan?" Alex asked Naomi.

"Stall them!" she shouted. She was so close to blowing that power source. Alex did what he did best, rambling on in his folksy Martian way.

"I've got it!" she finally called triumphantly, flipping a switch that sent too much electricity into the local circuit, blowing it out.

Inside the safe were a series of documents. Alex seemed to know which would be the right one. Three words were printed on it. They were not the kind that would come up in casual conversation.

"Our power problems, they've been so… ubiquitous…" he paused. Naomi glared at him to finish, say the other two codes already. "And mendacious and polyglottal," he rushed. There was silence on the other side. "Like a couple of donkey balls," he added nervously. Naomi almost hit him. That couldn't have helped. The silence stretched out, and Naomi started to lose hope.

"Received and understood, _Rocinante_ ," the Martian voice responded at last, "you get those comms checked out when you hit port."

She smiled in relief, then sagged. This better not be what every day turned out to be like on the _Roci._

Naomi was working on reversing as much of the damage she had caused as she could, when Holden came down the ladder from the pilot's deck. As he passed, their prisoner piped up, "Hey, can I just-"

"Quiet," Holden interrupted him, with venom in his voice. Naomi was surprised to hear him so angry when things were just starting to work out again. He came over to her looking pissed. "Hey," he said, bending his face close to hers, "next port we hit, I want your boy Amos off the ship."

"What's happened?" she asked. He had been a little slow to follow the chain of command today, but she hadn't seen anything worth this much anger.

"Whatever leash you had him on, you better get him back on it," he said with contempt.

"He's not my dog," she scoffed, insulted. Is that what their relationship looked like, from the outside?

Holden paused as Amos jaunted noisily up the stairs, shooting a smile when he met their scowling faces. He clapped his hands like he was excited. "We getting this show on the road?" he asked as he passed them by, then hauled himself up the ladder to the next deck. Yeah, something had definitely happened.

"Get him under control," Holden growled at her when he was out of earshot. "You're the only one who can." Then he stalked away, headed to one of the decks down below.

Naomi blew out an exasperated sigh. She had really meant it when she promised herself she was going to stay out of any problems those two might have between them. If Jim Holden really wanted to be their fucking leader, when was he going to start acting like it? She was pretty sure managing insubordination was one of the first lines in a Captain's job description.

Or no, wait, that was the XO's job. Was that who he wanted her to be? Shoving her into the same job he had only lately been trying to turn down. It could be flattering, until you remembered there were only four people on this crew. The role certainly wouldn't be going to Amos; and Alex had never been the leadership type.

She sighed again, tried to focus on finishing up her repair of the circuits she had just blown.

"That was some really impressive work you did there," came an anxious voice from her right. She had forgotten that their little spy still restrained to a crash couch on this deck. She fixed him with a glare and then started working more quickly.

His very presence soured her mood; a complication in an already labyrinthine situation. Who did he really work for, what did he want with them, and what the hell were they going to do with him now?

"I didn't think you could pull it off, but I was wrong," he continued. "Where did you learn to do that kind of thing?"

Still trying to gather as much information as he could. "Just look hard enough, you can figure it out." She wasn't giving him shit.

She felt a pang as she realized it was the sort of thing she had often said to Amos when she was training him back on the _Cant._ She missed him. It had really hurt when he walked away from helping her crack the operations locker; he just up and dropped that drill and wandered off talking about "Plan B." It was the first time he hadn't consulted her about something important. She told herself he was a grown man, it was fine if he wanted to start thinking for himself. But it was the way he abandoned her to do it. When the pressure was highest, he was no longer by her side. She had heard that people who had lost a limb sometimes said they could still feel it, though they couldn't touch it, couldn't move it. Amos stalking around the ship and avoiding her eyes felt like that.

Repair complete, she started closing up the panel. "Uh, if you're done over there, I could really use a trip to the head," the spy whined at her.

"I'll go get someone right on that," she barked, whirling around to head down the way Holden had gone.

Naomi stood outside the machine shop, listening to Amos bang around in there, trying to slow down her nervous heartbeat and figure out what she should even say. She'd betrayed what he thought their relationship was about; wouldn't it just be more hurtful to keep explaining to him why she felt like she had to? He knew what he was. And she had tried apologizing; she wasn't sure what else was left. "The captain asked me to put your leash back on." She still couldn't believe Holden saw them that way. Did she treat Amos with so little respect as that?

When she opened the door, Amos looked up, nodded gruffly. No smile for her this time. He had found something on their shiny new ship that actually needed to be worked on, it seemed. "What have you got there?" she asked conversationally.

Amos grunted. "The rhythm in one of the condensers sounded a little off, so I thought I'd better take it apart and clean everything out."

Naomi nodded. Seemed he had picked up her habit of creatively inventing work that suddenly needed to be done. She took a deep breath. "So what the hell was that, walking away when I needed you?"

"You and Alex got it done great," he said cheerfully, without looking up from his work.

"But we wouldn't have been down to the last possible second, if we had all actually been working together."

Amos glared at her a moment, then put his tools down. "There was no way to know how much time we had, or how much we needed. While everyone was busy being optimistic, I was making sure we'd all survive what was coming next."

"By jumping to the violent solution," she said, pushing as much disapproval into her voice as she could.

"Someone had to be ready to do it." He twisted his mouth up into an entirely mirthless smile. "Told ya you'd need someone like me out here."

Naomi scowled. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"We got enemies everywhere. We even found one right on our ship. This ain't the _Canterbury_ , and we aren't ice hauling. What Holden doesn't understand is if he keeps looking for trouble like this, he needs a bad guy like me on board. Someone who will do whatever's necessary; all of those things that he's just too squeamish to do. I mean, that's why you kept me around, isn't it?"

Her biggest regret with Amos, that beating in the Golgo room, flashed across her memory. She had used him for violence before. And it had been a mistake. But she also realized that that night had been a turning point for her and Amos; after that was when he became her comfortable little shadow and her strong right arm. She had never wanted to think too hard about why. Now she finally paused, and listened to what he was saying. Without trying to fix him, or change him. He saw himself as the bad guy. He wanted to turn that into a positive. He wanted to do what he excelled at, when the time was right. And he wanted to protect, not only himself, but all of them.

"I don't think you're a bad guy, Amos," she said gently.

He grunted. "Then you're lying to yourself."

"You're capable of some very scary things, but you want to do what's right." She swallowed, hoped she was saying the right things. "You want to protect the people you care about." He finally met her eyes again, tension fading from his face. Right track, then. "I know you don't always know the right thing to do, but maybe it's enough that you care."

"Maybe," he echoed.

"You need to trust me... and Holden," she added quickly. "We all need to be working together, if we're going to get through this mess. If we're going to be a crew."

"Trust has to go both ways," Amos replied, face hardening again.

Again, Naomi tried to be still and just listen. He didn't feel like she trusted him. She let out a long breath. He was right. She didn't. She had tried so hard to stay in control of his violence, and it had worked only as long as he hadn't really seen that was what she was doing. "I know," she said quietly. She held his gaze for a moment. "What if I promised never to keep anything important from you again?" She wasn't even sure if she meant it, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

Amos turned away from her, started working again. "Promises are just words. Words have never ended up meaning very much, to me."

"Then I guess only time will tell," Naomi said. She regretted resorting to clichés, but she couldn't think of anything better. She took a deep breath; she had one more thing to say. "Amos." She waited until he looked up at her again. "Give Holden a chance." He didn't say anything, but kept looking at her. "He's a good person, and I think he'll make a good captain, if we let him. I know we've made fun of him, a lot. But I'm starting to… see something else in him. I wouldn't have gotten back on this ship if I didn't."

Amos nodded, then looked back down at the tools in his hands. "That it? I'm gonna get back to work now."

Well, she'd tried her best.

A few hours later, Naomi found herself outside the door to Holden's cabin. Yes, she had promised herself she was going to let them work things out without her intervention. But after she had talked to Amos, had her own moments of understanding about what was motivating him right now, she just couldn't sit back and hope Holden would figure things out on his own. That had never seemed like his strong suit. She knocked.

A moment later, the door slid open. Holden stood in the doorway, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, jumpsuit rolled down casually on his hips. He broke into a smile when he saw it was her. "Naomi, what's up?"

"Nothing, really. I thought maybe we should finish that conversation."

"Which one?" Holden asked eagerly, stepping back and gesturing her inside.

"The one about Amos." She almost missed the way his face fell at her reply, as she pulled down the crash couch in the wall and perched herself on it.

Holden hit the panel to shut the door and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Oh yeah." He grimaced. "Sorry about my tone. I was pretty frustrated with him."

"He can be frustrating. Especially lately." She wasn't sure what she wanted to say next. She and Holden had never been on the kind of level they were entering into now, close colleagues on a tiny crew. She knew what she wanted to tell him about Amos, but it was still feeling odd to open up to him. Naomi realized she was staring into his warm eyes, as he waited patiently for her to speak. She felt a flutter of the old crush she had harbored when she first joined the _Canterbury_ ; squashed it as decisively as she had then, when she had realized he wasn't going to look at her in that way. "You didn't really mean it, when you said you're kicking him off the ship, did you?"

Holden sighed. "It feels like the smartest choice. The guy's always been kind of scary. Now he seems pretty unstable, too. I can't have someone who's willing to kill people like it's nothing on my ship."

Naomi bristled at his words. Did Holden not realize he was talking about her best friend? "I know Amos. He's capable of a lot of scary things, yes. But that's not the kind of man he wants to be. He wouldn't do anything terrible… not without checking with one of us first."

"You weren't there. He refused to stand down, under my direct order."

"Then he hasn't decided you're worth listening to yet. Win him over."

Holden looked like he was about to argue, then softened, let out a breath. "How do I do that?" he asked humbly.

Naomi smiled softly. "Just keep being you." He ducked his head, almost blushed. She was surprised she was saying it too. But she kept going. "You're a good captain, and more importantly, you're a good person. You don't just take the easy way out; I've seen you take a lot of risks to make sure you were doing the right thing. Amos and I can't always appreciate that in the moment," she admitted, "but you're winning me over. I'm sure you're proving yourself to him, too. All he wants is a good person, a strong person, to follow. Someone he respects." _Now that he's lost some of that from me,_ she thought bitterly.

Holden was just staring at her, a big, dumb smile spreading across his face. "I'm winning you over, huh?"

Naomi grinned, welcoming the distraction from her darker thoughts. "Don't push it. I could still change my mind."


	9. Chapter 9

"Alright, what are we looking at here?" Holden said. The crew of the _Rocinante_ were huddled around Naomi's terminal again, inspecting the readouts on the dark little ship they had found nestled inside a crevasse scored deep into the surface of the lonely asteroid.

"Everything is completely shut down, no power readings of any kind," Naomi said. They had been over all these facts once already, but maybe a review would help them decide their next move. "There's no telling from here whether the engines were damaged, or just turned off."

"There's no way that ship just drifted all snug into that lil' hole like that," Alex countered. "The engines had to be working when it got parked there."

"No sign of damage anywhere that we can see on the hull," Amos commented from another terminal down the line, "but anything could have happened inside that ship. And we don't know what might still be on it." Amos didn't stand next to Naomi anymore. They still worked together as efficiently as they used to, but the companionship was gone. Now he hung around the edges of the group, assessing the situations on his own and looking to see where he fit in. Naomi tried to brush the idea off, but it really seemed like he was just waiting to tell them when it was time for violence.

"Whose ship is it?" Holden asked.

Naomi looked up at him. "Your OPA friends didn't tell you anything about a secret stealth fleet, huh?"

Holden shook his head, still staring at the screen. "They didn't know what was out here. Just that their operative pinged them from this location."

"If this was theirs, do you think Fred Johnson have even told you?"

"If it was theirs, they would know I'd find it and come back asking a hell of a lot of questions."

"Maybe that's part of their plan," Naomi shot back.

"That doesn't make any sense," Holden said.

"Guys, we're pretty sure this is the same kind of ship as the one that killed the _Cant,_ right?" Alex asked. "And the fleet that attacked the _Donnager._ " Holden and Naomi nodded. "So it can't be Martian, then."

"Doesn't seem likely," Naomi agreed.

"But why would the OPA blow up a ship full of Belters, like the _Cant_?" Holden asked.

"Wouldn't be the first time, if it suited their 'greater causes,'" Naomi said, mouth twisted in disgust. There was a moment of silence as everyone remembered the tragic stories of terrorist actions OPA splinter groups had claimed credit for, over the years.

Holden surprised everyone with his next suggestion. "Why don't we get Kenzo up here, see what he makes of this?" Naomi turned and looked at him incredulously. "I'm not buying his corporate espionage story. He might know something useful."

"If you don't think he is who he says he is, why would you ever think you can trust him to be helpful?" Naomi asked.

Holden shrugged, with his shoulders like an Earther. "He was pretty useful getting us out of that jam with the Martians. Knew a lot about MCRN ships for a corporate spy. Maybe he'll know something useful about this ship, too."

Naomi shook her head. "It's a shitty plan."

"Probably," Holden said with a self-deprecating smirk, but headed down the ladder to get their prisoner anyway.

Naomi heaved a sigh, looked down the line at Amos. He was scowling too. At least they had that in common right now, thinking their captain was a naïve, optimistic idiot. Or maybe that's not what Amos was thinking at all. She opened her mouth to say something to him, closed it again and looked away.

It felt like Amos was on the other side of a chasm. She wished they were back on the _Cant_. A sudden burst of grief threatened to choke her. If they were just going about their old life with its endless list of work to do, she was certain she and Amos would fall back into rhythm so easily. But on the _Rocinante_ , there was nothing to occupy their time in the same way. Naomi's new roles, administrating the ship's systems and comms, gave her plenty to do up on the ops deck; plenty of reasons to interact with Holden, and Alex, and not much for Amos. Truth was on the _Roci_ he just wasn't at her right hand anymore. Now he was the only engineer on a ship that basically ran itself, and he spent most of his time on the lower levels, scrounging up the kind of work that they used to do together.

Perhaps this was going to turn into their new normal; a comfortable distance that with time would slowly lose the flavor of loss. Maybe eventually she wouldn't miss their quiet intimacy, the unspoken understanding and support. Naomi certainly couldn't see how they would be getting any of that back, now that her fear of him was out of the bag. And it seemed every new turn of events on this ship gave Amos more reason to flaunt his violent potential, reminding both of them of that aspect of Amos that Naomi just couldn't accept or respect.

And he was only more frightening now that he wasn't obeying her, or anyone else, unquestioningly anymore. In her mind she turned over what Holden had said passed between them at the airlock. Was Amos truly ready to kill, against Holden's direct order, without consulting her or anyone? He had admitted to her once that he didn't usually trust his own conscience. Had she really lost him that far?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Holden's return with their prisoner. Naomi turned the display to their best image of the mysterious ship.

 **Episode 8: Salvage**

"What the hell is that?" Kenzo asked.

"I was hoping you could tell us." Holden replied.

"Looks dead," he said.

Naomi sighed. "Yeah, you're a great help." She toggled the image to the side.

"EMF reflection practically zero across all main bands," Kenzo noted from the readings. "It's nice stealth tech."

"We already figured that out." Naomi couldn't stand the way he was always pointing out the obvious, dodging questions and avoiding giving them anything real.

"Who has ships like that?" Holden asked.

"Mars, of course. But this is not a design I've seen before, must be one of the new ones."

"It's not Martian," Holden said firmly.

"No one else builds stealth, no one else can afford to," Kenzo argued. Then he paused, turned to Holden. "This is what Fred Johnson sent you out here to find."

"I don't think he knew it was out here," Holden said.

Naomi started to feel worried. Holden was already volunteering too much information, playing right into Kenzo's dumb act. They had absolutely no idea what his true agenda was; they did not need to be letting him in on their plans.

"Bullshit. A dead stealth ship sitting next to a rock, looks just like a rock, unless you know exactly where to look. You guys are out here to salvage this," Kenzo accused.

"We're not on a salvage mission." Holden's voice was tight, and the emotional intensity was ratcheting up in the room.

By habit, Naomi looked over at Amos. His face had not changed at all.

"Fred Johnson is a terrorist," Kenzo said stridently, "You can't-"

"We're not on a salvage mission!" Holden shouted. He stepped in, just had to explain himself to Kenzo. Couldn't let him believe they wanted to be party to anything about this ship and what it had done. "We're here looking for survivors. And some answers. If we're lucky."

"Main airlock's open," Naomi interjected, trying to get Holden back to the task at hand, before he said too much more, "but the hull seems to be intact. There could still be air inside."

"All right then," Holden said, face looking haunted. "We're going in."

Fear of the unknown tightened Naomi's throat. "Remember what happened the last time we went into one of these?" she warned.

"Yeah, well, this time we've got guns of our own," Alex reassured her, stroking the _Roci_ absently.

Holden leaned in to Kenzo. "Suit up. You're coming with us."

"Me? What? Why?"

Naomi suppressed an eye roll. This was another bad idea. Why was Holden so willing to trust this guy?

"And meet your new bodyguard," Holden said, turning to Amos. The big man gave Kenzo a wink and a smile. Gross. Naomi watched Holden step over to Amos, leaning in and saying something low in his ear.

Amos listened attentively, then pasted that fake smile back on his face. "Sure thing, Skipper."

Naomi pushed Kenzo toward him. "Move." She just wanted this over with. She hated seeing Amos with Kenzo, taking every excuse to show off his monstrosity. It only widened the rift she felt between them, eroding her ability to relax around Amos even further.

Still, Naomi was glad to see Holden and Amos working together; Holden willing to trust Amos with a job and Amos willing to follow orders. It was exactly what had to happen if they were all going to stay together. Naomi felt an odd pang of jealousy as she realized that what was truly needed here was for Amos to start looking to Holden the way he used to look to her.

As soon as they were done with the decontamination sequence back on the _Roci_ , Naomi was pulling off her EVA suit and rushing to her station on the Ops deck. Whatever that stuff on the _Anubis_ was, it had shaken her more deeply than anything they had been through yet. Which meant she needed data. All the data that she could get from this safe distance. The more she knew about it, the better she could protect herself and everyone else. Before they left, she had set the _Roci's_ scanners to monitor every output from that ship that she could think of. If anything bad happened to them this time, she had wanted to increase the chances that there might be a useful record of it.

Naomi felt Amos behind her as she rushed up to her station. She felt awkward and comforted by his presence all at once. Things weren't fixed between them, but she had heard the concern in his voice as he called her name over the radio, and he had been staying close to her ever since they reunited at the airlock. She knew she wasn't imagining it because Holden had custody of Kenzo right now, while Amos was glued to her side.

Naomi didn't even glance at him, afraid she'd have the wrong expression on her face and she'd ruin it. But she felt some extension of her mind reaching back and touching him, basking in the support his presence had always provided her. Even if this time she may have been exaggerating it, it still felt good.

Naomi sat down in her chair and began calling up scanner reports, looking for any changes in the readouts that might have come when the mysterious substance had seemed to awaken. She was so glad Holden had seen what she had seen, drawn the same conclusion. A life form. Biotech. And probably lethal.

"What happened in that engine room?" Amos asked from behind her.

"I'm not sure," Naomi said, poring over the readouts on temperature, radio waves, energy use. "There was something… coating the reactor. When you turned it on, it started glowing." Possibly the spike in energy output on this scanner report corresponding to that moment was slightly lower than it should have been. Possibly. "Then I swear I saw it _moving_."

"Freaky," Amos said, tone completely nonplussed.

Naomi finally turned to look at him, eyebrows climbing.

"Hey, if you say it was scary, I believe you," he backpedaled.

"I have never seen anything even remotely like it. It was like something living, that was drawing strength from the reactor." Naomi shuddered and turned back to her reports, but there was little else to find in the numbers.

"You're going to Eros, aren't you," she heard Kenzo's voice, and two sets of boots clanging up the ladder. "Aren't you?" he repeated as Holden ignored him. "If this Lionel Polansky is going to be anywhere, it'll be there. I know that place," he said emphatically.

Amos and Naomi looked at each other. Why was Holden still sharing information with this guy, and why were they coming up to Ops? They both stepped over to get involved in this conversation.

Kenzo was still talking. "I got hooks in systems all over Eros. Let me help you find him." Holden looked like he was actually considering this. "And if I do, you let me walk."

Naomi sucked in her breath, and felt Amos stiffen beside her. That was a really bad idea. This was not someone they could trust. And Holden looked about to fall for it.

"Okay," Holden said. Naomi's heart fell. "When we find Polansky. Not before." Then he turned his gaze to her and Amos. It was harder, more commanding than she had ever seen from him. Warning them not to undermine him on this decision. She looked away from him pointedly; Amos intensified his glare. They didn't agree, but they followed the unspoken order. "Anybody object to us turning that ship into scrap?" Holden asked next, changing the subject.

"Hell no," Amos said, pleasure in his voice.

"Well, I do-" Kenzo started.

"Anyone except you," Holden said. Then he looked back at Naomi.

At least this was a plan she could get behind. "Do it," she said. Whatever that glowing biotech stuff was, it might have killed two ships and a research station.

Kenzo kept talking anyway, as they all took their stations to carry out the command. "Look, you control that ship. You have a bargaining chip. Why would you destroy something you control?"

"Because that ship is a weapon," Holden fired back at him, "And that thing on it felt like a weapon, too. And I don't think Fred Johnson, or Earth, or Mars, or anybody should have it."

Amos was already up in the gunner's chair. "Torpedos armed and ready," he called down to them. Holden and Naomi turned to the display at Holden's station, the _Anubis_ still barely visible against the rock of the asteroid.

"Fire," Holden growled. All eyes were fixed on the image of hated ship as it turned white in its own little supernova. Naomi thought she heard Holden whisper: "Remember the _Cant_."

 _This is how it gets better with Amos,_ Naomi thought. Nothing talked about, no explanations, just one day he's over it and back by her side. It didn't feel one-hundred-percent, but warmth and openness were creeping back into his face when Amos looked at her. He wasn't the type to acknowledge he was feeling better, and calling attention to it might only set them back. So she contented herself with matching his steps as they all made their way down the dark streets of Eros station.

"Last place that Lionel Polansky showed up on the nets, is here," Kenzo announced as they approached a sleazy-looking motel called the Blue Falcon.

They walked in silently, trying not to call attention to themselves. There were several patrons wandering around the lobby, and a tired-looking man helping a customer at the front desk. Holden stopped a respectful distance away from them, clearly waiting for his turn. The rest of the group spread out, aimlessly exploring the space. The lobby was out of style and clean only by the strictest definition of the word. The air had a damp smell to it; the environmental controls were clearly in need of maintenance. And there was a poster of some scenic view from Earth on the wall. Naomi hated everything about the place.

A can fell heavily from a vending machine in the wall, and everyone jumped. Naomi wondered why she was feeling so tense. Sure, they had no idea what they were about to walk into, but that was becoming business as usual for the _Roci_ crew.

Holden walked up to the desk. "I'm looking for a friend who checked into a room here. Lionel Polansky." The clerk just stared at him, not reacting.

"It's a special friend," Amos added from his position at the center of the room, not moving a muscle, "It's his birthday." There was only a barest hint of threat in his voice.

The man behind the desk paled, drawing some kind of conclusion about them and starting to comply. It took him an awful long time. Naomi felt anxiety creeping up the back of her neck, wanting him to get on with it. "I got an L. Polanksy in room 22. Call up for you?"

"No," Holden said. "No, it's a surprise thing, thank you." He dropped the fake smile from his face when he turned to Naomi. He stepped in close, spoke under his breath to her. "Maybe I should go up on my own, not freak the guy out."

"Maybe take Amos," Naomi replied. She didn't want to think what might happen if there was an altercation up there, even if Holden had a gun strapped under his arm.

"Alone is fine," Holden replied, voice sounding tightly controlled. He didn't trust Amos to have his back?

Naomi frowned and looked over at Amos. Then it suddenly clicked why she was feeling so nervous. He was standing like he expected violence to erupt at any moment: stance grounded, hands ready to draw, eyes scanning the room. Naomi whipped her head around, trying to figure out what threat he was seeing.

"Hey!" she heard Amos shout. She saw Kenzo running, and then it suddenly seemed like everyone in the room had a gun and they were all firing. She felt Holden pushing her, covering her with his body and directing her to hide behind the front desk. He squeezed in next to her, then pulled out his pistol.

The sound of repeated gunshots was deafening. She could only hope Amos and Alex were ok; if the shots were continuing it had to mean at least one of them was still in the fight. She held her breath every time Holden leaned out to take a few shots. "We're running out of ammo," Holden called after what felt like forever.

Moments later, eveything fell silent. Holden turned around and stood up from his crouch slowly, looking out at the room. When no one shot him, Naomi decided it was safe to stand up too. Her eyes immediately sought Amos, then Alex. She felt a knot loosen in her stomach when they both looked unhurt. Everyone was staring at a man with a gun she doesn't think had been there before the firefight started. He carried himself with a relaxed confidence and evidently had just saved them.

"James Holden," the stranger said, like he was surprised, but seeing him made an odd kind of sense. "Shit just follow you around, don't it kid."

"Are you a cop?" Holden asked. That was Naomi's assumption as well.

"Not anymore," the stranger replied wryly.

Naomi picked her way across the debris to Amos, who caught her eye for only a second and waved her off with a shake of his head. He wasn't taking his attention away from their new friend. Naomi frowned, then changed course to check on Alex. The Martian was staring at the bodies on the ground. Naomi laid one hand on his arm carefully. He jumped a little and looked up at her. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.

"Yeah…" he said, eyes not quite focused on her. "Yeah. Sure. Managed not to get hit, at least," he shrugged.

"That came out of nowhere," Naomi said. "Was that… for us?" She shuddered, suddenly regretting leaving the relative safety of the OPA-run station. She hadn't really believed until now that whoever was behind all these atrocities might be gunning for them personally.

"Hey, thanks for the assist," she heard Holden say, addressing the one stranger still standing in the room. "Now who the hell are you?"

"Anybody else know you were coming here?" he asked, ignoring the question and taking control of the conversation.

"No. No, I don't think so," Holden replied.

"They do now." He tossed Holden a hand terminal. Naomi came over to get a look. On it they saw video footage of themselves, walking into the Falcon, then a screen cap of the room number they had been looking for. All from the perspective of someone standing right next to them.

"Kenzo!" Naomi exclaimed. "That son of a bitch." The spy must have had some kind of surveillance tech they had missed, like contact lenses. She knew it had been stupid of Holden to trust him so much, taking him along on their missions like he was on their side… and he had called down some kind of hit squad on them?

The stranger started talking to someone on his own hand terminal, then strode purposefully up towards the motel rooms. "Hey, hey!" Holden called, as they all moved to intercept him. "We need to talk."

The stranger bristled under Holden's reaching hand, stopped and turned around slowly.

"Who the hell are you? And what are you doing here?" Holden demanded.

"I'm going to room 22. Now any second, there's going to be a group of thugs coming through that door, this time with badges. You touch me again, there's gonna be another body on the floor." Then he smiled almost apologetically at Holden.

Holden turned back and looked at the rest of them. Standing in front of Naomi, Amos cocked his head in some kind of response to the query in Holden's eyes. The stranger was already heading up the stairs; Holden signaled them all to follow.

Naomi tried to stay calm as they moved through the corridor, but it was a difficult task when everyone was on edge and they still had no idea what they were walking into. She was also keenly aware of being the only one without a gun. That had been her own choice; standing next to the airlock back on the _Roci_ she had been quite sure she had no interest in putting blood on her hands today. Now, she almost regretted those convictions. Then she saw a frightened Alex almost shoot an old man in the face for opening his door at the wrong moment, and she felt validated in her choice again.

When they reached room 22, Holden and Amos took up positions on either side of the door, ignoring the lanky stranger who was just standing right in front of it. Holden signaled to Amos to turn and rush the door, but the stranger surprised them both by kicking in the door himself. "Julie?" he called, walking inside with barely a trace of caution. Holden, then Amos, stepped in after him, guns at the ready.

"Who's Julie?" Naomi asked Alex, as the two of them peered in the door apprehensively. Alex didn't answer.

The room was dark. A truly unpleasant aroma hit her nose. "What's that smell?" Holden asked.

"Sweat," Amos responded. "Sick." Then his voice sounded puzzled. "Ozone?"

Naomi smelled it too as she walked in behind them. There was a disgusting combination of human misery and odd chemical reactions suffusing the place.

"Scopuli," Holden read aloud, from a uniform on the floor. So this really was their survivor's room.

"Somebody put up a bitch of a fight," Amos said, light on his gun scanning broken glass and equipment all over the room.

"No, they were turning things off," Naomi said, as she realized what the clues were saying. "Same as that reactor." Confirming her theory that the blue stuff needed an energy source to be active.

"Nobody touch anything," Holden ordered. They saw the stranger heading for the back room. "Wait, wait!"

Everyone rushed in after him, then stopped short at whatever they found. Naomi slipped past Holden to take a look. "Oh my god," she said, as her brain tried to make sense of what she was seeing. It had once been a woman, but the body was suffused by something… inorganic. The angles of it were familiar, the same as the material coating the reactor on the _Anubis._ A bioweapon, indeed.

"Jesus." Alex swore behind her.

The stranger dropped to his knees. He knew her. "Julie…" he whispered, voice choked with grief.

 **Episode 9: Critical Mass**

"Don't touch her," Holden cautioned as the stranger bent over the horribly disfigured body. "She could be contagious." The man gave him a look like he was insulted, but he retracted his hand.

"Come on boys, we gotta go," Alex said. "Cavalry's on its way." He was right; the stranger had said that station security were already en-route. Better to slip away, pretend this never happened. If this was Lionel Polansky, she was beyond their help.

"If he wants to stay, let him," Amos said over Holden's shoulder, then turned on his heel and left the room. Naomi was glad someone gave Holden that advice, what with his compulsion to save everyone.

"There's nothing you can do about her," Naomi said softly to the stranger.

"And if you stay here, you'll never find out who did this to her," Holden said, real emotion in his voice. No one deserved to end up like that. The man didn't move, and so they walked away, and left him to his grief.

The crew regrouped as they came back down the hallway. The men all had their pistols at the ready again, moving ahead of Naomi. She felt as shiver of fear as she saw Amos, then Holden and Alex, duck through the doorway at the bottom of the stairs and raise their guns. There must be trouble in the lobby already.

"Drop them," a voice called.

"Not happening," she heard Amos reply.

"Easy," Holden said as she rounded the corner herself. There was one man in the room, holding his gun on their group with the confidence of authority. The station security response, she assumed.

Everyone was silent, and then their grieving stranger stepped heavily down the stairs behind them.

The newcomer seemed to recognize him. "Jesus, Miller." The stranger named Miller waved his hand at Amos as he walked past, suggesting he could lower his gun. Amos ignored him. "What the hell have you got yourself into?" the cop continued. "Ain't no way I can clean all this up." He sounded shaken as he indicated the wreckage of the gunfight.

"You got that right," Amos said.

"We're not asking you to do anything," Holden replied in the same moment. Miller just kept trudging, as if in a trance. He moved right through everyone's line of fire without batting an eye. "We're just going to walk out of here real easy; we didn't see each other."

"Look, you stay right where you are," the cop ordered. Miller stopped next to him. They exchanged a few low words, and the cop pointed his weapon at the ground.

Holden lowered his arms slowly, then signaled for everyone to move out. They scurried toward the front door as a group, Amos covering them. Naomi heard Holden tell the cop not to touch anything in the room as they passed. She certainly hoped he'd listen.

Miller had caught up with them as they made their way through the crowded halls of Eros station, trudging silently behind their little group. "We need to find out what he knows," Holden said to Naomi as they walked up ahead.

"Don't push him too hard right now. He's having a hard time dealing with what we saw. That girl meant something to him. It was a shock finding her like that." She tried hard to get the anxious and impatient captain to see it from their new companion's point of view. When emotions ran that high, it was hard to convince someone to act logically. They found an unlocked maintenance hatch, ducked in to regroup.

"Doesn't look like we were followed," Amos reported after a few minutes of watching the crowd passing by half a level above them.

"That's a relief," Naomi responded. They were onto something really bad. And who knew how deep it went.

"Okay, I'd say we're all in a bit of trouble here," Holden began, addressing the room but meaning the message for Miller. "So why don't we just figure out-"

"What were you doing following Julie?" Miller asked, squatting forlornly on the floor.

"We didn't know who we were looking for," Holden replied.

"Who were those thugs back at the hotel?"

"We don't know."

"Any goddamn thing you do know?" Miller asked.

"All that stuff on her, we saw it before," Naomi supplied. "On the _Anubis._ " She was rushing to keep the conversation focused, before anyone's wild emotions got the better of them.

"The _Anubis,_ " Miller echoed, like he knew the name. Suddenly he launched himself to his feet, turned and shoved Holden into the wall. "What happened to her? What happened to her?!"

"Settle down!" Holden commanded through gritted teeth, holding Miller back from him without trying to escalate the violence.

"Back off!" Naomi shouted as the two men grappled with each other. Miller was frantic, like he was ready to take it all out on Holden right now. "Back off!" Something wasn't happening, that was supposed to be happening right now. "Amos!" she shouted when she realized. "For God's sake, do something!"

"What we should be doing is leaving," Amos replied, still in his post watching the corridor. He turned and gestured emphatically, the fighters slowing down enough to listen. "The cops are gonna be all over us. We need to get back to the _Roci_ , and off this rock, _now._ "

"He's right," Alex said.

Naomi could sense what was coming next. "We shouldn't separate."

Amos scowled like he was disappointed in her and spun on his heels, ripping the hatch doors open and leaving the tight corridor without a word.

"I'm gonna go prep the ship for dust-off. You guys meet us there," Alex said, following the big man. Both of them were covering their fear pretty ineffectively with a show of angry disgust.

Their departure hit Naomi like a punch in the gut. While they were right, she couldn't believe they were willing to abandon everyone like this. Not Amos. He had never turned his back on her like that before, not when there was a hint of danger... maybe things weren't as fixed between them as she had let herself believe.

Though a little part of her was also surprised that she wasn't right on their heels. It was the way she had been living for years, mostly looking out for herself. It had been a long time since she had felt a loyalty like the one she was beginning to feel for Holden. Other than what she had had with Amos, of course. And apparently he wasn't going to let her have both.

Naomi turned, just a touch forlornly, back to her chosen companions. Holden and Miller had separated, the former holding his hands out in a calming gesture. They still only had eyes for each other. "We both followed Julie here," Holden said. "We both have part of the story. I want the truth as bad as you do."

They were taking a few minutes to let Miller calm down, give him some space to open up. Naomi had made a quick connection to Alex's hand terminal, just to reassure herself they were all still on the same page. She was too angry and hurt to call Amos. After she and Holden got a bit more information out of Miller, they'd decide if they were offering him a ride off the station, and everyone would reunite back at the ship.

Naomi looked over at Miller, decided he looked calm enough to start being reasonable. "What was Julie doing on the _Anubis_?"

"She was OPA, she found some new bio-weapon they were putting together on Phoebe."

"So did we," Holden said.

"She wanted to steal it," Miller continued. "So they couldn't use it on Belters." His voice dropped to a forlorn whisper. "They used it on her."

Naomi looked over at Holden, making sure he was paying attention to how much pain this man was in.

"She was an Earther," Miller said. "She died for the Belt."

A massive quaking rocked the station. "What the hell was that?" Holden asked, as the crowd in the street above them began to scream. More shockwaves followed, and panicked people began running down their service corridor.

 _Attention, Eros Station has experienced a radiation hazard breach,_ said a voice over the loudspeaker.

Alex pinged Holden's hand terminal. "Did you guys hear that?"

"We sure did," Holden responded.

"Son of a bitch," Alex said, "a ship just blew up in the docks."

"The _Roci_?" Naomi asked, searching her own terminal for information.

"No, it wasn't in that bay. That's the good news. The bad news is, ships are all locked down tight."

"We're stuck here," Amos said into Alex's terminal, voice tight.

"Shit," Naomi swore. The crowds were getting rowdy, and men in heavy armor had appeared to herd them toward the radiation shelters. She wondered if they should follow, get themselves to safety. But something didn't feel right. Miller and Holden weren't moving, either. They watched for a few minutes, waiting for more information before they made their move.

"What are we looking at?" Holden asked Miller after a while.

"Alright see them cops? That's CPM, station security. They're gangsters with badges. One teams rounds 'em up, the other shakes 'em out. This was planned. They have assignments. They knew it was going to happen."

"How could they know a ship was going to blow up on the docks?" Holden asked. He caught up after a second. "They blew it up themselves."

Suddenly, Miller slid open the service door, stepped out purposefully into the chaotic hall.

"Hey!" Holden called, reaching out after him. "Where the hell are you going?"

Naomi grabbed onto Holden's arm, pulled as hard as she could to keep him inside their hiding spot. "Let him go!" It was one thing to stay and get information out of the guy, it was another to start charging around the station instead of getting somewhere safe. This mystery was not worth their lives.

"Miller's onto something," Holden growled staring her down ferociously. "The _Cant_ , the girl…"

"It's not your problem," she pleaded. "And it's not your fault." His eyes took on a bewildered cast, but he seemed to be calming down. "None of it is."

"Okay," he said, and really seemed to be processing her words. Grateful for them, even. "But now I'm making it my problem." The determination was still there. "Meet me back at the _Roci_. I'll be a few hours, tops." He turned to rush after Miller.

Naomi pulled him back again. "We're better when we stick together," she pleaded. She didn't trust he'd make the smartest calls without her, and she was finding that she didn't want to face this crisis without him.

Holden's resolve didn't budge. "If I'm not back in three hours, leave." Then he turned and walked away from her again.

And now everyone had left her.


	10. Chapter 10

Naomi leaned her shoulder heavily into the wall of the maintenance corridor, and took a moment to fight back angry tears. They had all abandoned her; Amos and Alex so worried about their own survival that they couldn't wait, and Holden too wrapped up in the bigger picture to be concerned about his own life or anyone else's. Trying to care about everyone had somehow left her with no one.

She rubbed the back of her hand against her nose. She was being dramatic. Everyone was dealing with this extraordinary situation as best they could. And what was best for her was to catch up to Amos and Alex, get back to the _Roci._ She sent a quick message to Alex, got a location from his terminal and started shouldering her way through the frightened crowds in the main thoroughfare.

She hunkered down as she walked, making herself small, avoiding the gaze of the armed thugs menacing the throng. They didn't seem to be ushering people toward the radiation shelters anymore. Mostly they were just standing around looking scary. After a few more minutes down the hallway Naomi spotted Amos' face through the metal grate of another maintenance hatch, his expressionless eyes locked on her. He nodded once, face tense. She tried not to feel hurt by his coldness. Amos was in survival mode – she'd seen this before – and nothing else would concern him until they were safe again. Naomi waited until no one was looking at her before she ducked into the service tunnel to join him.

 **Episode Ten: Leviathan Wakes**

"As far as I can tell," Alex said, looking up from his hand terminal, "all the transit pod lines are shut down."

"Why would they do that?" Naomi asked. "All the ships are locked down, nobody's going anywhere."

Amos turned back from anxiously surveying the crowd passing by their hiding spot. "First thing's first: the _Roci._ There's gotta be other ways to get to the docks, so we need to find one."

"Wait." She initiated a connect request on her hand terminal, ignoring Amos' annoyed energy when he saw who it was for. "Holden. We're on the move." Suddenly her terminal went blank. So did Alex's. They had lost connection to the _Roci's_ network, and to any other. "Comms just went dark!"

"This ain't an accident," Alex said after a moment. "It's a plan."

A building commotion at the Tube station across the street from them captured their attention. A throng of people were massing by the doors, demanding to be allowed to get on the transit pods. There were two cops in riot gear blocking their path; desperate parents with their kids right up front.

"Move along now, or we will use force," one of the guards bellowed. A moment later, seemingly just to make his point, he knocked a father begging for entrance down with the butt of his gun.

"Are we just going to stand here?" Alex asked Naomi.

"We can't just charge in and start shooting," Naomi responded. She hated what was happening too, but she couldn't see a useful way to intervene.

"Pretty sure we can," Amos responded.

A familiar security officer appeared at the front of the crowd; the dark-skinned cop who had come upon them in the Blue Falcon. "Hey, keep your hands off these people, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Just following orders," the guard replied.

"That's Miller's pal," Amos said, making sure everyone was paying attention.

"Yeah I didn't get any orders like this," the cop said, trying to calm the situation. "You stand down. I got rank here."

"Not today, you don't," the guard said.

"Sir, sir," one of the men from the crowd pleaded, putting his hand on the cop's shoulder, "we're trying to-" he was cut off as the brutish guard opened up on him with his machine gun. The crowd scattered in screams; Naomi ducked reflexively, watched Amos' feet as he happily joined in the firefight to help take those guards down.

The tunnel-like hallways of Eros station were eerily deserted after the firefight. Several civilian bodies were lying on the empty floor. Alex checked a few; there was nothing to be done for any of them.

"You're Miller's friends," the cop from the Blue Falcon said, looking up from the wounded at their group.

"That's a stretch," Amos shot back.

"Where the hell is he?" the cop asked, ignoring him.

"No clue, he's got his own agenda," Naomi responded. She changed the subject to the problem at hand. "This 'emergency' is bullshit. There's no radiation in the tunnels."

"That's not the only thing that stinks," the cop said. "These CPM guys are a bunch of gangsters from Ceres. I don't know what game they're playing, but they're working for someone else. Hard-core mercenaries."

Naomi shook her head. It was the same thing Miller had said, and it was a layer to the mystery that she didn't care to try and figure out. "We're getting off this rock."

"All ships are locked down," the cop informed her.

"Yeah, well the _Roci_ ain't 'all ships,'" Alex growled.

"Even so, they've shut down all access to the docks. Look, I can find you guys a place to hole up. Ride this thing out."

"Something terrible is happening here," Naomi said, "and we're not sticking around to find out what." An idea came to her, dragging unpleasant memories along with it out of repressed corners of her mind. "Help us get into the old mech shafts. They'll lead us to the docks."

"The mech shafts?" the cop said incredulously. "Half those things are collapsed. I've been a cop here for years, and I can't even find my way through that maze."

"Which is why the OPA uses them as smuggling routes. On every station. Eros included. Get us into them, and I'll get us through them." She spoke quickly and fervently, needing him to just agree and move on. She didn't want to have to explain how she knew this, and she didn't want to leave anyone an opening to ask.

"Okay," the cop said, looking to get the others' agreement as well. "Okay." Then he added: "I've got CPM override. I can unlock your ship."

"Take us with you," called the voice of a tall, scraggly Belter man who had evidently been eavesdropping. "Please." They all turned to look, apprehensive about making their group too big, or trusting a stranger. Another adult man, and a girl who couldn't be older than nine came out of the shadows behind him. "Please, we won't be any trouble."

Amos looked at the girl for a long moment, then turned to Naomi and nodded slightly. His face said _we have to take the kid._ Naomi couldn't name all the emotions that welled up in her then, moved both by Amos' compassion and by memories of her own past. It was looking like a lot of people were going to die today, and Naomi was growing determined to save as many innocents as she could.

Naomi made her way through the abandoned and damaged tunnels as quickly as she could. She recognized the general layout from other stations carved into the bedrock of giant asteroids. She was glad to be able to project confidence right from the start; doubt was coming off the other men in waves and she rushed to stay ahead of any chance at conversation. Now was not the time to be taking more questions about her relationship with the OPA.

A fork in their path forced her to slow her pace. She couldn't be sure from her own guesswork which way would lead them toward the surface and the docks. But somewhere near here there should be a marker on the wall. She started rubbing at generations of dust, searching the abandoned paneling and shear bedrock. She could feel the rest of the group watching anxiously behind her, and ignored them.

"Look, if you're in over your head, you better say so now," the cop, who had finally introduced himself as Detective Sematimba, said to her.

"Shut up, I'm thinking," she replied. Distantly she heard Alex trying to cheer up the little girl as she searched for the tunnel markers she was expecting to find. She let out a sigh of relief when she found them; a map of the system scratched into the wall. She settled down and tried to memorize the image, relate it to their position in Eros' labyrinth as quickly as she could.

"What you got there?" Sematimba called out, heading over.

"When they first dug these tunnels, they put markers down so the workers wouldn't get lost," Naomi explained. "The OPA uses them to mark the route to the docks." She tried to ignore the sharp glance Amos gave her when she admitted this knowledge. Yes, she had more secrets from him. Add it to the goddamned pile.

"You're full of surprises," Alex commented, asking without asking.

"I've heard that," she breathed coldly, trying to warn him off the topic. Wondering about her affiliations right now was a waste of energy that she didn't have. She was too busy saving all their lives. "This way," she waved, passing them all and charging down the left fork.

"You sure you know where you're going?" Sematimba growled at Naomi for about the eleventh time, stress high in his voice. They were all getting tense; this was taking so long and they still didn't know what catastrophe might strike the station next. Apart from the occasional marking scratched into the wall, the tunnels all looked exactly the same.

"Zip it, buddy," Alex said, voice harder than she had ever heard it. "She knows what she's doing." Naomi felt a wave of gratitude at his support, but didn't take the time to acknowledge him.

They were all moving as quickly as they could. The tunnels were full of debris, crumbing at the walls, and full of mazelike intersections, but Naomi had that map carved into her memory. They were going to make it. She rounded a corner and it was like a weight dropped suddenly onto her chest. "Shit." The passageway had caved in, blocked with large sheets of solid metal.

"Alright, enough. You're lost." Sematimba was speaking to her, but raising his voice to make sure the whole group heard him. Making his play to take charge. "We're not all dying down here. We need to go back topside, take our chances up there."

Naomi ignored him, focused on the clues at hand. She scattered some dust between her fingers, watched it spiral as it fell in the Coriolis effect of the station's spin gravity. It told her they were still moving toward the surface of the asteroid. "We're going the right way," she announced. "We're so close."

The group was scattering already, everyone wandering a bit as they considered what might be their next move. The tall Belter man they had picked up let out a disgusted shout at something, and a moment later the little girl screamed and took off down the hall. Naomi didn't think, reacted on instinct to the shrill cry and ran toward her.

"Stay back, don't touch anything!" Amos warned her. That's right, the mysterious biohazard was on the station, and the body dripping from the grate in the ceiling looked infected.

But Naomi wasn't worried about that, or the fact that the Belter man was now writhing on the floor. She ducked just long enough to grab the flashlight he had dropped. "Come back, _mali_!" she shouted, running the way the little girl had gone. She would be lost in only a few moments down here. "Come back!" She heard Alex's footsteps racing behind her.

Naomi kept running, and calling. It was hard to be sure which turns the girl had chosen; Naomi could only pray she was still behind her, and hope the girl could hear her voice, would turn around. The sounds of human suffering were echoing down from the ceiling here; something truly awful was happening on the main levels. Finally Naomi rounded a corner and spotted the girl, sitting on the floor and clutching herself. She slowed down, approached carefully. The girl was frightened out of her wits. "I need you to come back with me," Naomi said to her, softly but earnestly. "We can't stay here."

"What was wrong with that lady?"

"She was sick."

"Will she be alright?"

"No." This was no time to try and hide the truth. "But we will be if we go, but we have to go now."

The girl looked away from her, shook her head.

Naomi took her by the shoulder. "You have to be brave." The girl looked up at her, fear still crowding out everything else in her eyes. "You are brave," Naomi said. She didn't know how to comfort a child. After a moment she reached down and took her into her arms. " _Setara mali_ ," she whispered into her ear, channeling the soothing little pet name from her own childhood. " _Setara._ "

Alex finally caught up to them. "We got company," he said.

She heard a group of people approach.

"Nalida?" The little girl called out in recognition. "Nalida!" she ran into the arms of one of the women.

"Shukri?" the woman said in obvious relief. "What are you doing here?"

"She was lost," Naomi explained. "We're going to our ship. _Kom wit milowda_ , we've got room," Naomi said.

"Can't get to the docks that way, tunnels are all blocked," one of the newcomers said.

"You come with us," Nalida said. "There's a hospital on Level 9. Her uncle is a doctor there."

"Whatever it is, it's not a sickness," Naomi warned. "It's something else. We can get you off this station."

"This is our home," Nalida said firmly, holding the little girl's hand and pulling her in the other direction. "We'll be safe at the hospital."

Naomi's heart sank. She didn't know what was happening on Eros, but she doubted the hospital could do anything to stop the strange bioweapon. "There's no safe place here." The words came growling up out of her belly, she was so desperate for these poor people to listen. She couldn't abandon the girl to this fate.

"We're going with them," two of the men informed Nalida, and joined Naomi's group.

Naomi stepped forward, pleading with the girl's auntie. "Let us take care of her." If she wouldn't change her mind, at least she might let her save the girl.

"Her place is with her family," the woman said with finality.

Naomi bent down next to the girl. What she was about to say broke so many unwritten rules of human society, but survival was more important. "Shukri _,_ " she said, using the name that Nalida had, "be brave. Come with me." The stakes were too high to respect the ties of blood.

"We need to go," Nalida told her, "now." She pulled on Shukri's hand. The girl hesitated, pulled back, looked at Naomi as she tried to decide. Then her auntie tugged her again, and they began walking quickly back down the passage.

"Please!" Naomi called after them. "You'll die if you…" she trailed off, tears choking her. She didn't want to add to the girl's fear, anyway, if these were her final hours. She felt Alex's hand come down on her shoulder as she watched Shukri hesitate one last time, then disappear around the corner. Alex was comforting her, and telling her to let it go at the same time. This hurt worse than almost anything that had happened since the _Cant_ blew.

But not worse than what she had already been through, before that life. Naomi brushed Alex off, stalked back to the front of the group and resumed their course to the docks. At least she could save some of these people.

When Naomi and Alex rejoined their group, Amos' eyes passed over their new followers, searched between their bodies for a smaller one. "What happened to the girl?" He asked Naomi sharply.

"She found her auntie," Naomi said softly. "They wouldn't come with us. She's taking her to a hospital."

"They're not gonna be safe there," Amos said, looking down the hall and rocking on the balls of his feet like he was considering going after them. Warmth flooded Naomi's chest at the sight, mingling with the bitter despair already living there.

"She wouldn't listen. Come on, we have to go." Naomi pressed on, back to the blocked tunnel.

"Does this look like the right way to you?" Sematimba spat at her when they arrived.

"This was the way," Naomi said, defeat starting to creep into her voice. She looked at Amos, he just stared back at her coolly. Going back to the surface, like Sematimba wanted, was the wrong move. They had to get to the docks somehow.

Silently, Alex stepped forward and started kicking at the steel plates blocking their path. There was a hollow sound, which was encouraging. Amos stepped up and joined in the effort. Naomi threw her weight into it as well, until they opened up a hole into a vertical passage beyond. Naomi stuck her head into the shaft. "This is it!" she called triumphantly.

Amos climbed in first, and one by one they began the long descent on the shaft's steel ladder, down against the spin gravity to the docks at the asteroid's surface.

They dropped down onto the dock level after Amos shouted the all-clear. "The _Roci_ 's here," he said, looking down into the airlock. Naomi felt like she could finally breathe. She had followed through on her promise; they had all made it.

Sematimba pulled out his hand terminal, interfacing it with the console holding their ship in lock. Their little group of survivors milled around warily as he worked. Some kind of guards, or who knew what other kind of trouble, could descend on them at any moment.

Alex leaned in close to Naomi and Amos. "Where's the scruffy guy?" he asked. Naomi realized she hadn't seen him since he dropped to the floor when the little girl ran off.

"He's gone," Sematimba said without looking up. "I think he might have been infected. We're better off."

Naomi was not just going to let that go. "What did you do?" she asked, face screwing up in outrage. They were trying to save people, not just pop off the inconvenient ones.

"We're better off," Amos said over her shoulder. She turned and met his eyes. _Trust me this time,_ he seemed to say. _You know I'm right._ They had no idea what kind of infection they were dealing with. She was surrounded by hard men, who had made hard decisions today. She had made hard decisions too.

The airlock opened, and Naomi dropped the issue.

"Holden didn't make it," Alex called down from the pilot's deck, like it was a fact.

"Not _yet,_ " Naomi corrected him, prepping the ship for launch whenever he showed up, or when the three hours she had promised him ran out. They weren't out yet.

"Passengers are all tucked in below," Amos reported as he came up the ladder to the command deck, Sematimba following behind him.

"How the hell did you guys get your hands on a Martian gunship?" the cop asked.

"Legitimate salvage," Alex replied defensively.

"Yeah, well that's fine by me. Let's get the hell out of here." He turned to Naomi. "Point me to a console so I can override the clamps."

"We're not leaving yet," Naomi said, and turned away from them. Trying to avoid the look she knew was about to come over all their faces.

"What?" Sematimba said.

Naomi turned back, put all the command she could into her face. She was the unspoken XO, now she was the one with rank. "You heard me."

"Hey, hey!" Semi said vehemently. "These mercs, they locked down all these ships, so that no one could leave." Panic was creeping into his voice. "Alright? They've got cameras on all the docks. They could be here any minute, we gotta push off."

Naomi turned squarely toward him, setting her feet. "I promised Holden three hours, he still has time."

"He didn't make it, end of story," Sematimba said.

"We're waiting."

Amos turned away from her, frustration evident. Naomi only barely noticed, her own tension rising as their new companion's emotions were palpably spiraling.

"Alright look, look, I understand how you feel, alright?" he babbled. "Everybody that I give a damn about is on this station, including Miller, and they're all either dead or dying. So if we stick around here, we run the risk of getting killed."

"He's right," Amos called to her.

Naomi's disappointment in Amos' words stabbed through her like lightning. She took an unconscious step back. "We owe Holden," she tried. He had fought his way through the besieged halls of the _Donnager_ to rescue the three of them, when he could have been safely on an escape pod.

"I don't owe him a goddamned thing," Sematimba growled, and pulled out his pistol. He pointed it squarely at Naomi. Everyone froze.

Naomi was the first to speak. "Shooting me isn't going to get you out of here," she said levelly. She refused to be intimidated. His threat of violence somehow renewed her own resolve; she was almost too angry to feel afraid.

"Get me access to the console, so that I can unlock the clamps," he commanded.

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa, settle down, y'all," Alex called from the pilot's deck. He was too far away to intervene. Naomi held her palms out, careful not to move a muscle, tried not to let any hesitation show in her face. They just needed to get Sematimba calm enough to lower that weapon.

"You stand by to drive us out of here," Sematimba ordered.

"Alex, you don't do it," she said sharply. She had a fleeting memory of an argument on the _Knight_ with Holden; it felt like ages ago.

"Amos, fire up those consoles."

Her heart sank as she watched Amos turn immediately and walk toward the terminals. She pushed the hurt aside, refocused on how she was going to get Sematimba to relax and put the gun away.

"You don't think I'll shoot, do-"

Naomi felt the blood hit her face before her ears registered the sound of the gunshot, before her brain could interpret the meaning of Sematimba's jerking collapse to the deck.

He was shot. Amos stood behind him, pistol cupped in both hands. She blinked at him, trying to catch up.

Her eyes moved numbly over her old friend's face. As calm as if they were just sitting down to breakfast. "You say we wait, so we wait, boss."

She barely heard him. She could barely move. A good man lay on the ground in front of her, a man who had just helped them all escape. Emotions were high, they were all feeling desperate, but Sematimba wasn't going to shoot that gun he had been pointing at her. He had just been helping her escape, a few minutes ago.

"I'm going to go put this below."

At first, Naomi didn't even realize what Amos was talking about. "This." The man. Sematimba. Who was dead. Who Amos shot. Who Amos shot because he was threatening _her_. Who Amos had just been agreeing with, but then he chose (using the only means he ever chose) to back Naomi's play.

It was a cruel twist on who they used to be to each other. He didn't wait for her to choose whether he pulled the trigger this time, like he had on the _Knight_ when he was holding a gun to Holden's head and this whole mess got started. This time he just acted, then explained himself like he was only following her orders. Called her 'boss' again. For the first time since they hit Tycho. She chose the plan, but this time he chose the means.

She couldn't shake the next thought: did that mean _she_ was responsible for this death?

Naomi had ordered an easy quarter-g burn back to Tycho. Belter wisdom said that this was the best speed for healing bodies, and she was in no rush to get back into the arms of the OPA. Even if it was their only sanctuary. As far as Naomi was concerned, the only safe place in the entire solar system was right here, right now on the decks of the _Rocinante._ Alex mostly hung out on the command deck, watching the monitors, though he had reported there was no sign that they were being followed. Holden and Miller were unconscious in the medbay, finally stabilized by the autodoc's cocktail of drugs and supplements. Once those two didn't need her anymore, Naomi had been spending most of her time on the lower decks with the refugees. She was ostensibly playing host to their guests, but mainly she was keeping Amos away from them. He was adamant that someone had to be with them, to watch them for trouble, and the thought of letting Amos do that job made Naomi physically sick.

Amos had killed for her now. She wasn't sure if their relationship was coming back from that.

Naomi had been spending all this time trying to get him back by her side, struggling to feel close to him again. Now she didn't even think she wanted that anymore. She wasn't sure she could ever look at Amos again without seeing that dead stare he gave her after Sematimba dropped to the floor. It was one thing to know he was a killer, it was another to have it happen on her watch; to feel that he had done it _for her._

Now Naomi was the one silently leaving rooms as soon as Amos walked into them. She couldn't bear to be around his unnatural calm anymore, not until she had sorted out her thoughts a little better. Amos seemed confused by her avoidance, but didn't push her to explain.

But it was a tiny ship. She was going to have to talk to him soon.

"You put blood on my hands." She tried to say it levelly, but anger and despair were crowding around the edges of her voice. When she was finally ready to talk, she had ambushed Amos where she found him on the ops deck.

Amos looked up from his console. "How do you figure?"

Naomi just looked at him for a moment. Did he really not even understand what he had done? "You killed a man for me. I didn't want that. I don't want that on my conscience."

Amos made a scoffing noise. "Then don't put it there. He had a gun on you. It was you or him. Anyway, _I_ pulled the trigger. This isn't on you."

Naomi shook her head sadly. She wasn't going to let Amos absolve her. "It wasn't our only choice. He wasn't going to shoot."

"You don't know that," Amos replied. "Would you rather be dead? Or have let him have his way, and leave Holden behind?"

No. No, she wouldn't. But that was maybe the thought that burned the worst, that she did wish she could excuse his death, say the right call had been made and just move on. "You didn't have to kill him. You could have just… disabled him somehow."

Amos shook his head before she even finished the thought. "Too risky. If I shot to wound and he still had that gun in his hand, he might have shot you anyway. It was the best way to take control of the situation and keep you safe."

Naomi looked down at her hands. "He didn't deserve to die," she said quietly.

"Maybe not." Amos shrugged his agreement. "That's not for me to decide."

She looked up at him sharply. "Not for you to decide…? You're the one that took his life!"

Amos shrugged again. "Yeah. But that doesn't mean I know if he deserved it. Those are two different things."

It took Naomi a minute to wrap her head around what Amos was saying. "You really live like that, don't you," Naomi asked incredulously. "You're completely comfortable not knowing if what you did was right."

Amos looked at her with those wide, empty eyes for a moment. "Yeah," he replied like it was obvious. When she continued to stare, he kept talking. "I know why I did it, and that was to keep you alive, Naomi. Guess that's good enough for me. But if you wanna think harder about it than that, I guess I can't stop you."

He stood up and left the ops deck without another word. He was down the ladder before Naomi could think of anything else to say to him. The knot of grief and guilt in her throat wasn't any smaller. And she wasn't any less afraid of him.

"He's right, you know," Alex's voice floated down from the pilot's station. Naomi looked up; she had forgotten he was there. He stepped over to the railing, leaned against it comfortably. "How his mind worked to get down to that point was a little frightening, but he's right. He pulled the trigger, he made the choice, it's on him. You don't have to take responsibility for this."

"I was in command," Naomi said, shaking her head.

"We're on a military ship, but this is not a military outfit. The roles on the _Roci_ are looser, especially since the two of you have never served, you don't have those instincts. And I think nobody's been in command of Amos for a while now," Alex replied, twisting his mouth up wryly.

"And that's its own problem," Naomi said, turning away. Alex went back to his post, left her to her thoughts.

All those stupid little thoughts she used to have, comforting herself with the idea that she had Amos in hand, that she was able to direct and control his violence. She had been lying to herself. Amos wasn't her dog. He wasn't her knight. He was a violent man with a faulty sense of morality who used to respect her judgment. He didn't anymore, that much was clear. He was following his own agenda now, something that ran deeper than his desire to earn her respect. Survival at all costs. And he was willing to accept plenty more costs in that trade than she might ever be.

She had to let Amos go, or he'd be taking the last shreds of self-respect she had left down with him. They could serve on the same ship, but Naomi was done trying to recapture the allegiance, the closeness they had on the _Cant._ It had been a false intimacy anyway; she hadn't really known him, and hadn't really let him see her. She had felt so comfortable with him, feeling like he'd never judge her; but all along she sure as hell had been judging him. And now it was done. He was responsible for his own actions. Naomi could only hope that if they all stayed together Holden would do a better job constraining him than she had. But it wasn't going to be her problem anymore.


End file.
